


Crossing the Horizon Yonder

by enkiduuude



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, added that tag cause oc was basically inserted into canon, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24514123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enkiduuude/pseuds/enkiduuude
Summary: Maana of the Stars—that is the name of a boy whose life was meant to end on a distant island, in a distant dream. But still he walked, his blighted journey blessed by that enigma called "fate".Will joining free-spirited boys, Killua and Gon, on their ambitious adventure be what it takes to fill the emptiness left behind from his past...?update 06/04/20: i changed his name from "ennugi" to "maana" cause i like the way it sounds better.update 06/04/20: homeboy's a redhead now. also, a character concept sheet is coming soon.
Relationships: Killua Zoldyck/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 50





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> \- this is an oc-insert story, meaning that the plot is going to closely follow the anime with a few divergences. if that is something you aren't going be okay with, it'd be better for you to move onto a different fic now.
> 
> \- there will be mlm content and themes.

_treading past the old, familiar buildings—now scorched and covered with ashes—the boy continued down the dirtied trail before him, not minding the mixture of red and grey that stuck to the soles of his feet._

_remaining ashes from the fire fell like snow, and the smell of blood lingered in the air. even if he closed his eyes, he could still hear the cries for help echoing in his head, as if to mock him._

_who knew how long he’d been walking at this point._

_even after opening his eyes, he was still there in hell._

* * *

Opening his eyes to a dimly lit room, where the air was stuffy and smelled of mildew, Maana wondered briefly where he was. Though there was an unusual silence, he could catch the occasional hum of murmurs. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he lifted his gaze from the dark cement flooring.

_‘That’s right… the Hunter Exam.’_

It took a moment for his surroundings to register. During the time that he’d been asleep, it seemed the number of people in the room increased by a hundred. When he first arrived, there had only been seventeen people, with him being the eighteenth.

Just how long did he sleep for?

“Man—you’ve got some balls of steel if you can sleep like that in a room full of convicted criminals and professional killers.”

Maana turned towards the phantom voice that spoke to him, quirking an eyebrow upon the realization that it was another boy. He didn’t look much older than him, nor any taller, with hair white like winter and sharp blue eyes. Though his presence was unassuming, Maana could sense the immense strength hidden beneath his lean frame.

“You kinda need those if you wanna take what is arguably the deadliest test on earth,” replied Maana coolly, brushing off the grime that stuck to his clothes as he stood up. “Besides—no one would want to kill another exam taker right away without reason. That’s just petty.” So he said, despite knowing full-well that if someone wanted to sabotage him in any way they had all the freedom to. He just didn’t want to admit that to a stranger, no less, a stranger his age.

“Tell that to the guy whose arms got disintegrated by that crazy bastard over there,” retorted the white-haired boy, jabbing his thumb towards a man standing just a few meters away. He was notably tall, bearing an unusually jester-like appearance. He must have been new as well—Maana didn’t recognize him as one of the people who arrived before him.

“I don’t know anything about that, so it’s none of my business. Well, then? You talked to me for this long already, you should at least offer me a name to remember.”

The boy tilted his head, his expression blank. He seemed to be thinking something over before his lips stretched into a sly grin. “The name’s Killua—I’m twelve. You?”

“… Maana, and I’ll be thirteen in a few months.”

“Huum… you by yourself?”

“Yep.”

“So am I. How’d you find out about the Hunter exam?”

“I heard rumors of an elaborate exam that promised glamour to those who passed… so naturally I was curious.”

The boy snorted, his parted lips still curved into a smile. “Likewise,” he muttered, then shoving a hand into his pocket and offering Maana a can of orange juice. But the second Maana reached for it, the boy pulled it away with a quiet “Whoops!” before sliding it back into his pocket.

Upon noticing the flabbergasted look on his face, Killua laughed sheepishly.

“… I forgot that there was a laxative in that. Some guy was handing out poisoned cans of orange juice, but since I’m pretty much immune to that sort of stuff it’s just regular ol’ orange juice to me. Sorry.”

“No… it’s okay. I probably shouldn’t be accepting food from people I just met, anyway,” he murmured. “Although… I am a little hungry after having such a long nap…”

On cue, a quiet rumbling came from the boy’s stomach. Glancing at his stomach, then back at Killua, Maana sighed. What a great first impression he was leaving—first he totally let his guard down, and now he was hungry.

“… A great man once said that _‘A man who skips breakfast is a man worth fearing.’_ ”

A shameless lie—coming from the deadpan look on Killua’s face, it was obvious he thought the same thing. Hanging his head with a sigh, the boy shoved his hand back into his pocket and rummaged around before pulling something out. Reaching out to Maana, he turned over his hand and opened his palm.

“A… robot?”

“Not just any robot. It’s Chocorobo-kun!”

“… Ch— _Choco-who?”_

“Chocorobo-kun, dude. It’s just chocolate, so you can eat it.”

Maana stared at the multicolored toy in the boy’s hand. It was small, and relatively unassuming—then again, so was the can of orange juice that turned out to be a laxative. Narrowing his eyes, Maana stared at the boy with doubt.

“… So is this really safe for me to eat? It’s not gonna be, like, laced with cyanide or something?”

 _“It’s not!_ Besides, I would never stoop so low. Poison is such a normie method of assassination. I mean, if you’re gonna kill someone, you should do it with your own hands at least, right?”

“N—No, in the first place, both options are illegal—"

“Anyways, are you going to eat the chocolate or not?”

Hesitantly, Maana took the robot from the boy’s hand and inspected it carefully. The toy itself appeared to be a sort of dispenser; dropping a few pellets of chocolate into his palm, Maana tossed them into his mouth and savored the familiar sweetness.

“… It’s good.”

“Isn’t it? The best part is that Chocorobo-kun comes in limited edition designs, so they’re as collectible as they are delicious!”

Killua’s face seemed to glow with pride as he boasted about the chocolate robot, enough to make Maana consider the possibilities of him being a secret spokesman for the product. But before he could go on about Chocorobo-kun’s magnificence, he stopped Killua midsentence.

“… Um, I don’t mean to sound rude or anything, but…” he started, averting his gaze towards the ground. “We don’t really know each other, and as fellow exam takers, we should probably be enemies. So… why are you being so nice to me?”

“… Sure, I had a number of chances to mess you up pretty bad while you were sleeping. But you said so yourself, didn’t you? What would I have to gain from doing something so petty?”

“I—I guess I did say that.”

“Besides, there’s no rule saying that there can only be one person to pass the Hunter Exam. If anything, you’re at a pretty good advantage with me on your side, right?”

“… That is also true. But that doesn’t change the fact that we’re still pretty much strangers—I mean, I literally just woke up and you were there watching me. Most people in that situation would call the police, y’know.”

“… You’ve got a point, but you don’t need to make it sound like I’m some kind of predator. All I did was come by and notice another kid that looked my age knocked out on the ground. It was just a bit funny to see, that’s all.”

As perturbed as Maana felt by the notion, he sensed sincerity in Killua’s behavior. If his real intentions were to sabotage Maana’s chances of success, he would have done so already. The fact that he was still standing before him, offering food and making idle chatter, was proof enough of his honesty.

“I’ll admit, it’s a little hard for me to say that I trust you. However, if what you’re seeking is an ally, I’d be willing help, so long as you do the same,” said Maana as he offered his hand for Killua to shake.

“Deal!”

Shaking hands, a mutual agreement passed between them. In exchange for the other’s support, neither would attack, nor would they leave the other behind; however, there was still one thing Maana was hiding from Killua…

_‘But I won’t be telling him that right away…’_

Before either had a chance to say another word, a ringing-noise erupted from some unknown source in piercing falsetto, grabbing everyone’s attention. It was both annoying and perpetual—like the buzz of an unseen mosquito.

It was then that total silence fell upon the group, and they soon realized the phantom ringing was not coming from within the crowd, but the _walls._ Hushed whispers filled the air, and the tense atmosphere began to buzz with excitement.

"… I don’t think it’d be wrong to say that the exam’s starting,” muttered Killua.

But as abruptly as it started, the ringing ceased. Shortly after stopping, the wall that it sounded from began to lift, the anticipation of what was to come growing intense. The corners of Killua’s parted lips twitched up, and there was an attentive brightness to his eyes.

Standing on the other side of the wall was an unfamiliar man. He stood about six feet, with a long face and long nose; beneath that, he bore a pencil-thin mustache and seemed to have no mouth. Most notably, however, was his incredibly blank expression.

"I apologize for the wait," he began, his eyes darting back and forth as he surveyed the crowd. "The entry period for Hunter applicants has ended. The Hunter Exam will now begin!"

Releasing a shuddered breath, Maana felt his shoulders tense up as his hands clenched the air.

"… Don’t tell me those balls of steel are shrinking?”

_“Hah?”_

Maana glanced at the white-haired boy, and for the first time that day, he felt a smile stretch on his face. His heart was aflame, thrumming to the tune of anticipation; the adrenaline rushing through his veins came not from uncertainty, but zeal for the adventure waiting before him.

“You couldn’t be any more wrong, Killua.”

The first part of the exam seemed only to be a marathon. Their examiner, Satotz, explained the general rules of the test and what was to be expected of them. Ultimately, their only goal was to keep up with his pace.

That part, Maana was fine with. He wasn’t the greatest marathoner to ever exist, but the one thing he prided himself on was his resilience. It seemed that Killua had no problem with those conditions either—rather, it probably wasn’t on his list of things to worry about anyway.

He’d brought along a skateboard to the Hunter Exam, after all.

“… That sort of thing shouldn’t even be allowed!”

“What? This?”

As if to show off his exceptional skills, Killua performed a stellar kickflip before flashing the redhead an appropriately smug grin. “If you’ve got the power to keep up with me, you’ve got the endurance for this ass of phase.”

He was right, but that didn’t make Maana feel any less miserable. If he knew the first part of the exam was going to be a marathon, he’d have brought a skateboard too!

“Hey! Wait up, kid!”

Someone had called out to Killua—quite angrily so. Turning their heads, a tall, black-haired man donned in a blue suit waved around his fist. In the other hand, he was carrying a uniquely checkered suitcase.

“You should show the Hunter Exam some respect!”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re using a skateboard! That’s cheating!”

“… But why?”

 _“Why?!_ ‘Cause this is obviously an endurance test—”

“No it’s not,” rebutted someone else. This time, it was green-clad boy who’d spoken; he was just a few feet behind Maana and Killua and seemed to be around their age range as well. His skin was olive-toned, and his spiked hair dark; most notably, his auburn-golden eyes shone with a sort of innocence unlike the mature nature of Killua’s.

“Gon, what are you saying?!”

“The examiner only told us to follow him,” he reasoned.

“Just whose side are you on, huh?!”

Disregarding the man in the blue suit, Killua slowed down enough to skate by the boy’s side.

“Hey, how old are you?”

“I’m twelve years old!”

The white-haired boy lit up with interest, and he seemed to think something over before performing another kick flip. This time, he landed on his feet and held his skateboard underneath his arm. “Guess I’ll run too, then,” he sighed.

“Wow, that was cool!”

Nonchalantly, Killua brushed aside the praise and said, “I’m Killua. The guy over there is Maana.” He pointed at the redhead with his thumb, and the boy, Gon, stared at him curiously.

“I’m Gon!”

Well… Maana already knew that.

“Um… how old are you, Maana?”

“Twelve going on thirteen.”

“Oh, so we’re all the same age then!” he beamed excitedly. Ah, this wasn’t good—there was just too much sugar in this kid for Maana to handle. Any more fluff out of him and Maana was going to fall in love.

It had been some time since the start of the Hunter Exam.

There seemed to be no end in sight; who knew how many hours had already passed—if any at all. Never mind stamina, if they were to keep running with such limited space any longer, Maana was going to get claustrophobic.

However, Killua, and the newest addition to his entourage, Gon, seemed perfectly fine with their conditions. Monsters, the lot of the two were.

Turning his head, he noticed the man in the blue suit begin to slow down. He’d been like that for a while—stumbling forward and nearly stopping before getting back on his feet. And when he glanced at Gon, it was clear that the green-clad boy was noticing as well—they seemed to be friends, after all. His eyes kept going back and forth.

Then finally, the man seemed to reach his limit—dropping the case from his fingers, he slowed to a stop, wheezing heavily as he tried to catch his breath. His face was dripping with sweat, and his suit looked unbearably uncomfortable.

He looked like he was going to give up.

It was then that Gon mimicked the man, stopping the even pace he’d been keeping as he turned his head and watched the man expectantly.

“Hey, forget him. Let’s just get going already,” said Killua, his eyelids drooping with boredom. But Gon didn’t yield, or rather, he didn’t hear Killua at all. He just watched the man with the same determination from before.

For some time, the standstill continued—

Until the man lifted his head, his eyes ablaze.

“Don’t screw with me…” he wheezed, before standing to full height and charging past the boys. _“I’m going to become a Hunter, daaammiiit!”_

Now glowing with pride, Gon pulled out the stick nestled in his bag and whipped it forward, pulling forth the fallen suitcase in one swoop. It was a small trick that dazzled Killua, and he whistled.

“That was cool! Let me try that later!”

“Only if you let me try your skateboard, okay?”

As impressive as Gon’s fishing stick was, Maana was far-more impressed by the display of such unique character. As an outsider to their relationship, there was no real way for Maana to know the exact nature behind the relationship of Gon and the man—but one thing was clear.

What Gon had just shown was complete loyalty towards those that he trusted. If someone like him were to be on Maana’s side as well…

“Maana? What’s up, you look a little weird…”

The sound of Killua’s voice tore him from the depths of his thoughts.

“Who, me?”

“Yeah you. You look like someone gave you a mega-wedgie or something.”

“… Couldn’t you have come up with a better analogy?”

“Fine then. You look like someone just told you that Chocorobo-kun finally went bankrupt and would no longer be in production, so now you’re thinking about getting revenge on the bastards who allowed such an abominable thing to happen.”

“Now that’s just too lon—no, you know what, I don’t care, long live Chocorobo-kun. Anyways, I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he assured with a lazy wave of his hand. “I don’t have any thoughts worth mentioning.”

“Is that so…” Killua didn’t appear to be convinced, but it seemed that he wasn’t going to press Maana any further. Instead, he shrugged and looked ahead. “It looks like there’re some stairs up ahead, so watch your steps.”

Admittedly, Maana felt a twinge of guilt at having brushed aside Killua’s concerns so easily. The truth of the matter was that he felt more trust in Gon, whom he knew for barely an hour, than Killua—who reached out to him first. Not that Maana doubted Killua—he simply didn’t want to create a rift between him and the white-haired boy. After all, there was no telling what that child was capable of if Maana were to get on his bad side.

In the end, despite having come to the Hunter Exam alone, he’d unexpectedly made friends.

Killua—a mysterious kid with a bit of a sharp tongue, but well-meaning and friendly; then Gon, who wore his emotions on his sleeve and seemed to be fiercely loyal to his friends.

If possible, he hoped it would be the turning point of his blighted journey.


	2. Premonition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the fast-paced nature of this story right now. this is like my third attempt at writing a killua/male oc fic and at this point, i've been stuck at the hunter exams for so long i just need to get it out of the way lmao—

How long had it been since the start of the first phase?

Somehow, it felt as though Maana had been running upstairs for eons; he was more than ready for a change of scenery. Just a few feet ahead of him were Killua and Gon, who were making idle conversation. It hadn’t been that long, but it was clear they were already attached—not that Maana minded being the third wheel. He’d always been a bit of a wallflower, even as a child.

“I’m impressed you guys can keep up with my pace,” admitted Killua, somewhat left field.

Sheepishly, Gon scratched his head. Despite his meek appearance, there was a bit of pride that glowed in his smile.

“Really?”

Disbelief flashed across Killua’s face at the humble response. “… Or maybe it’s just that everyone else is too slow,” he grumbled, then hanging his head and releasing a heavy sigh. _“Maaan_ —the Hunter Exam is gonna be a breeze, huh? That’s no fun.”

Curiously, Gon glanced at the white-haired boy.

“Hey. Why do you want to become a Hunter in the first place?”

“Me? Well… I’m not really interested in becoming a Hunter. I just heard that the exam was supposed to be really hard, and I figured I had free time … but this is just disappointing. What about you?”

“Well, my dad’s a Hunter. So I want to become a Hunter, like my dad.”

“Hmm… what kind of Hunter is he?”

“I dunno.”

Having been thrown off by such an unexpected answer, Maana stumbled over a step and nearly fell to his knees. Squeezing his eyes shut, he waited for that painful moment when skin hit cement—but it never came. Looking up, he saw two different faces: Killua’s, full of humor and disbelief, and Gon’s, full of concern for his new friend. Both were holding him by the wrists.

“Look Gon, he almost fell because of you!”

“Did not!”

“Pardon my rudeness, Gon, I just… wasn’t expecting _that_ to be your answer. I mean, I just think it’s kinda weird… you want to be like your dad, but you don’t really know anything about him?” said the red-haired boy, hoping his blunt way with words wouldn’t offend Gon. Fortunately for Maana, it seemed that Gon hadn’t even noticed—that or he just didn’t care.

Continuing their pace up the stairs, the green-clad boy spoke again.

“I was raised by Mito-san, so I’ve only seen my dad in pictures.”

“Oh?” Killua perked with interest. “Who’s Mito-san?”

“Mito-san is Aunt Mito!”

Sharing a bewildered expression with the white-haired boy, Maana interjected, “Yes, but who is she, Gon?”

“Aunt Mito is Aunt Mito, duh!” he replied, like it was supposed to be common sense. “Anyway, when he was twelve, my dad took the Hunter Exam. He passed and became a Hunter, then left the island shortly after. So, I want to find out why he chose to be a Hunter over being with me.”

As bleak as Gon’s words sounded, somehow, he was still smiling. It was as though he were proud of his father for having abandoned his own son in favor of his dreams, as wrong as that seemed.

“… Then what about you, Maana? Why do you want to become a Hunter?”

The redhead narrowed his eyes at the question. Why _did_ he want to become a Hunter? At some point, he’d already had it all: treasures, friends, and family. There was never a desire to see the outside world, or to pursue some faraway fantasy—

_‘Ah, that’s right.’_

“I just… want a reason for my existence.”

Silence fell between the trio; it seemed neither Killua nor Gon had expected such an answer to come from him as well. Ruefully, he dropped his head and added, “… Or something like that! Haha!”

Somewhere in the distance, a ray of light shone upon them, lighting up the dreary steps beneath their soles. Then suddenly, Maana was grabbed by the wrist and pulled forward at max acceleration. How he danced up those steps without stumbling once was beyond him, but in a mere breath he was standing at the summit, the cool outside air hitting his heated cheeks. It felt good, like drinking a glass of cold water on a sweltering summer day.

_“Goooaaal!”_

Their simultaneous cheer filled the silence, and Maana felt a smile tug on his lips; then when the adrenaline subsided, he finally noticed the hand wrapped around his wrist. It seemed that Killua knew that as well, quickly releasing the grip he had on the redhead and turning towards Gon.

“We totally won that!”

“What, no way, I was totally faster! Besides, you were holding onto Maana, so that’s cheating!”

“How’s that cheating?! If anything, that extra weight just makes me the true winner here!”

“But I was still faster, so you need to buy me dinner!”

“Nope!”

Their squabble continued in that back-and-forth pattern, neither willing to yield their (arguably) shared victory to the other. Shaking his head with a humiliated huff, Maana wandered past the two and gazed into the misty distance. Upon first glance, there was nothing amiss…

But the longer he stared, the tighter his neck felt, and a familiar cold feeling coiled inside his belly.

The fog was worse than Maana had expected.

Surrounding him and the others was a thick mass of whiteness; the trio could barely see as they raced across wet soil and maneuvered past trees both thick and thin. Worse still, one wrong move and they were susceptible to any of the dark swamp's traps, never to see the light of day ever again.

All around him, people were screaming, their cries for help ringing in Maana’s ears; the unease he felt prior shifted into nausea, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He knew this feeling well.

He was having a _Premonition._

Flashes of the ground rumbling beneath his feet, his vision shaking wildly and his hands grasping the empty air. Beside him were Killua and Gon, both reaching out to him before being _swallowed by the earth—_

_“W—WATCH OUT!”_

With all his strength, Maana grasped onto their collars and pulled the two backwards; at the same time, the ground that had been below their feet collapsed, and a large creature emerged from the depths of the mud. It appeared to be a large toad, practically towering over their small frames.

Having failed to procure a snack out of the children, it snorted and marched into the mist before disappearing. Even once it was gone, the silence between the children continued for some time; it was clear that Killua and Gon had been caught off-guard.

Collapsing to his feet, Maana began to tremble; partly due to fear, partly due to the aftereffects of his Premonition. In order to calm his jumping nerves, he clenched the ground, his fingers digging deep into the soft ground.

_‘One… two… three… four… five.’_

“Hey, Maana…?” Gon lowered to the ground, peering at the redhead through his bangs. “You okay?”

Despite his uneven breathing, Maana nodded—he was just glad he could get them out of there on time.

“Come on now, don’t tell me you’re too scared to move on ‘cause of a dumb frog?” Killua scowled, grabbing hold of the redhead’s arm. “We need to catch up with the rest of the group before we get left behind.”

“O—Oh, right!”

“… Somehow, I’m a little worried about Leorio and Kurapika now,” Gon suddenly admitted, a grave expression on his face. But just as before, Killua waved off the concern and turned on his heels.

“Forget about them. Let’s just go.”

With that said, Killua continued running deeper into the marsh.

Glancing at Gon, Maana pulled on his sleeve, urging him to follow behind. “Come on, Gon,” he murmured before chasing after the white-haired boy.

However, it wasn’t until after they found the main group that they realized Gon had disappeared.

“It’s not good… I couldn’t find him either.”

Having split to look for the green-clad child among the other examinees, both boys met back up with nothing. It seemed that Gon had gone back to look for his friends while the two weren’t looking, and was yet to return from the swamp.

Sighing, Maana dropped his head—that boy was kind to a fault.

“… I’ve been meaning to ask, Maana.”

“Hm? What is it, Killua?”

“Earlier… how did you know about that trap?”

The redhead froze—he wasn’t expecting Killua to suddenly ask about the incident. In fact, he’d hoped that it would seem natural enough for the others not to question him. But Killua’s gaze was sharper than the normal eye.

“… Hyper-intuition, I guess,” he murmured. “Or something like that.”

Though he was not entirely convinced, Killua, as before, accepted the half-hearted answer, much to Maana’s relief. Still, he was worried—at this point, Killua was going to know something was up.

And he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to keep his Premonitions a secret…

It seemed that just before the start of the second phase, Gon and his friend, a blonde-haired boy that looked to be a few years older than them, passed through the checkpoint. They first met up with the man in the suit, though he was naked waist-up and appeared a bit beaten. After a bit of idle conversation, Maana discovered their names to be Kurapika and Leorio respectively.

In the end, the second phase came and went like a passing breeze. Despite its chaotic beginning and the impending fear of being failed under unreasonable standards, with the intervention of Chairman Netero the moderator, Menchi, agreed to retest the examinees. Rather than create a gourmet dish from scratch, they were only required to capture an boil an egg—a breath of fresh air compared to the hellish task from before. 

Still, it sparked something within Maana. He’d never cooked anything that wasn’t ready-made before, but after discovering the subtle joys of the culinary arts, he made a mental note to try his hand at it again once the Hunter Exam was over.

"Allow me to introduce myself to the forty-two remaining applicants. I am Netero, Chairman of this year's Hunter Exam Selection Committee.”

The chairman was an elderly man with very little hair, save for his ponytail and pointed beard. He seemed to smile often and regarded everything with stride.

"I am his secretary, Beans," greeted the being that stood aside him. It was a strange creature that looked exactly how it introduced itself—a bean.

"Originally, I'd planned to make my appearance during the exam's final phase, but as I'm already here... I'm loving the tension in this air! So I think I'll stick around for the rest of the trip!" the chairman chortled, seemingly amused with the unexpected events.

"We're scheduled to reach our destination tomorrow morning, at 8 AM. You'll find dinner waiting in the dining hall," said Beans as he gestured towards the hall, "You are also welcome to get some rest. In other words, you're free to do as you please until you are contacted." With that said, he and the chairman bid the examinees farewell before taking leave.

“Okay, guys! Let’s go explore the airship!” said Killua ecstatically.

With a nod, Gon chased after Killua; how they still had enough energy to be so explorative was a mystery to Maana, but by some miracle he was able to keep up.

Having seen virtually every nook and cranny of the airship, their hungry stomachs lead them to the kitchen, though they were shortly kicked out after being caught stealing food by the Head Chef. Thus, they wandered the halls, looking for something new to entertain them.

Suddenly, Killua’s eyes lit up with fascination, and he raced to the windows.

“Wow, awesome! Take a look at this, you guys!”

Following the white-haired boy, the other two peered out the airship’s windows. The scenery outside the airship was certainly beautiful—like a endless treasures and jewels were glittering beneath their feet. For some time, they gazed upon the unique scenery, dazzled by the bizarre beauty of something so simple.

“Say, Killua…” began Gon inquisitively, “Where are your mom and dad?”

“Weeell… they’re alive. Probably.”

“What do they do?”

“They’re both assassins.”

“Oh? Both of them?”

Maana, on the other hand, furrowed his eyebrows. “… You really just outed your parents like that, huh? That’s rough.”

For a moment, Killua stared blankly at the two; then his lips stretched into a wide grin, and he could barely hold himself back from laughing. _“That’s_ how you guys react?! Man, just a riot, the lot of you!”

Still chuckling, he sat down on the bench beneath him. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard such serious responses,” he admitted, garnering quizzical looks between the two.

“Well, you’re telling the truth, aren’t you?” said Gon, tilting his head. He stared at Killua in that innocent nature, as though it were common sense that Killua would never lie to him.

“… What makes you think that?”

“Just a hunch,” the green-clad boy replied. When Killua looked at Maana, he simply shrugged. He’d thought the same thing. Just as there was no reason for Killua to want to hurt Maana, there was no reason for him to lie about something so bizarre.

“That’s weird… people only like me cause they can’t ever tell whether I’m serious,” he murmured. Lowering his eyes, his gaze grew distant. “… I’m from a family of assassins. So they’re all murderers. And my whole family has really high hopes for me… but I can’t stand it you know. I mean, who wants to have their life planned out for them?”

With a frustrated expression, he turned to face the two.

“When I told them I wanted to decide my own future, they all snapped! My mother had tears streaming down her face as she told me I had the potential to be a top assassin. I mean, horrible parents, right?! It’s natural their kid would go bad! So we ended up fighting, and I stabbed my mother in the face, my brother in the side, then dipped!”

Mischievously, he framed his chin, his gaze in the clouds.

“I’m sure they’re out for blood, now… but if they find me, I’ll send them packing! Then when I become a Hunter, I’ll start by capturing my family. I’m sure they’re worth some hefty bounties…”

Laughing nervously, Gon glanced at Maana.

“What about you, then? Where’s your family?”

The redhead grew quiet as he lowered his gaze. He’d been expecting Gon to ask, yet it was still difficult for him to answer.

“Ah… well, they’re gone,” he admitted. Upon noticing the concerned expression on Gon’s face, he smiled and waved his hand. “It was a long time ago, so I barely remember anything about them anyway. It’s not like I’m sad or anything.”

And to some extent, that was true. It had been nearly five years since the loss—rather than sadness, he’d come to feel an emptiness of sorts. 

Then suddenly, an intense sensation rushed down their spines, like an explosion of ice; it seemed to come from the hallway ahead of them. The following footsteps, however, came from _behind._ Turning around, their eyes met with Chairman Netero.

“Something wrong?” he inquired.

Curiously, Gon pointed to the other hall. “Um… did you see anyone coming from that side?”

He shook his head.

An obvious lie—and Killua knew as well. “You’re pretty fast for an old man,” he commended—albeit, mockingly. Still, the chairman was unfazed.

“That little trick? I barely moved!”

A chill settled in the air—namely due to the underlying hostility in Killua’s behavior.

“What do you want? You don’t have to do anything until the last phase, right?”

“No need to be so unkind. I got bored, and was looking for some companions. By the way, I mean to ask the three of you… any thoughts on your first attempt at the Hunter Exam?”

Brightly, Gon said, “It’s been fun! There haven’t been any written exams like I feared!”

“Likewise,” Maana agreed with a nod. Killua, on the other hand, glowered.

“I’m disappointed… I expected the exam to be far more difficult. I assume the next phase will be more entertaining?”

“Well… I wouldn’t know anything about that~” sang the Chairman, his gaze shifting suspiciously. Whether that was the truth was unknown, but it was clear that he was visibly poking fun at Killua.

Huffing, the white-haired boy turned on his heels and gestured for the two to follow.

“Let’s go, guys—”

“Now wait just a moment. Would you care to play a game with me? If you’re able to defeat me, I shall let you be Hunters!”

Gon beamed at the prospect, though Killua didn’t seem quite as convinced.

“How about it, eh?”

“… I’ll have to pass on that offer,” Maana sighed, lifting a hand. “I’ve gotten a bit tired.”

Which was true—but he also had the feeling that Chairman Netero wasn’t quite normal. Whatever game he had in mind, his victory was already predetermined. Turning around, he waved goodbye to Killua and Gon as he headed for the rooms. 

Still, he could feel the Chairman’s eyes on him. And as the distance grew between him and the others, he could have sworn he heard the Chairman say:

“… I would like to see that peculiar ability for myself someday.”


	3. Into the Tower

_how long would this journey last?_

_how far were these worn feet to travel?_

_so many times, he closed his eyes, dreaming of another world—but once again, he would return to the grey remnants of that abandoned land. whether he covered his eyes, or covered his ears, it was a sight forever ingrained into his soul—_

_home?_

_no._

_this was hell._

* * *

“… aana! Oi, Maana!”

Blearily, Maana rubbed his sleep-crusted eyes and lifted his head. “Nnn, wh’d’you wan’, Killu…” he mumbled in barely-coherent slurs. Forcing his stiffened body to rise from the floor, he unconsciously spread out his limbs. The familiar burn of his muscles stretching felt good, and with his blood flow moving he began to feel more conscious.

“It’s morning now, so wake up!”

That’s right—the night before, Maana had refused the Chairman’s proposal in favor of a good night’s rest. After smoothing out the wrinkles in his poncho, Maana stood up and popped a few joints that were still rigid.

“I’m up now, I’m up now…” he mumbled. “So how’d the game go last night?”

Coming from the scowl that marred the white-haired boy’s face, Maana could already tell that he’d lost. Suppressing a laugh, he patted Killua comfortingly on the shoulder. “Well, he’s the Chairman after all. What’d you expect?”

“Aargh, shut up!” the boy snapped, swiping at Maana’s hand—however, the redhead pulled it back in the same second and stuck out his tongue. Then, he spun on his heels and made a run for it.

“Oi, get back here, _youuu!”_

Maana evaded Killua for all but a minute before the white-haired boy caught him by the collar. He then pulled him into a chokehold, grinding his fist against the top of Maana’s head while cackling like a villain. “I’ll teach you to make a fool outta me…!”

Their rough play for some time before both boys inevitably collapsed onto the floor in exhaustion. As they leaned against the wall, their chests heaving, something seemed to come to Killua’s mind. Glancing at the redhead, he asked, “What kind of dreams do you have?”

Maana shrugged. “I dunno, I don’t really remember,” he replied—which was true. He couldn’t remember the last time he dreamt of anything. “Why are you asking?”

Killua pondered over his words, wondering what sort of response would sound better on his tongue. Then finally, he opened his mouth.

“… When I came back last night, I thought you looked like you were in pain. So I was just a little curious.”

“Oh…” Maana lowered his gaze. “Well… I really don’t remember, but I guess I must have been having a nightmare,” he mused. Then he chuckled, flashing Killua a sly grin. “Maybe it was about that monstrous strength of yours!”

“Pfft—maybe it was!”

After sharing a few more teasing punches, Killua stood up and helped Maana to his feet.

“Come on—let’s go get Gon!”

An hour into the morning, the airship landed on top of a tower.

According to the Chairman, it was a place they called “Trick Tower.” And true to its name, the building was massive in length and large in girth; it also happened to be home to dangerous creatures of all calibers.

The examinees were then stranded with only a few options: reach the base in under seventy-two hours, fail the exam, or _die._ Though it went without saying, the first option was probably the one that offered most salvation.

Getting into the tower was arguably the easiest part for Maana. All he’d done was walk over a particularly large slab of stone before plunging deep into the abyss. And as he fell, the last thing he could hear all the way down was the sound of Killua and Gon calling his name.

When he finally landed, it was on his bum; aside from the pain that erupted from the waist-down (miraculously, nothing broke), the first thing he noticed was the drop in temperature. The room he had landed in was built from bricks, and the ground itself some sort of stone. The second thing he noticed was the pungent odor of grime and old mildew, reminding him of the musty place where the Hunter Exam began. 

And just like before, Maana found himself alone once again. Well—a situation like this was bound to happen sooner or later. Rather than dwell upon his misfortune, he surveyed his surroundings for a way out.

The walls surrounding him were all blank, save for the one that faced him where a metal door blocked his path. Suddenly, an LED screen above the door lit up, and a robotic voice filled the silence.

**“Please put on the circular device before you.”**

On cue, a small podium elevated from the ground, and sitting on it was a metallic bracelet. After inspecting the bracelet and determining that it was not a trap, he snapped it over his wrist. One, two, three beeps later, and the LED screen changed to a wall of text. Then the voice spoke again.

**“Quiz #1: Your lover and mother are both in danger. Who is it that you must save? Please answer using the wrist device, and be sure to speak clearly.”**

_‘If possible, I would try to save both, but…’_

“… There is no right answer,” he said aloud. He’d already heard the riddle before, thus knew the “correct” response. As expected, the metal door slid open, granting Maana access to the other side. However, once he crossed into the darkness that awaited him, a cold chill froze him in place—

Another _Premonition._

This time, he saw images of swinging knives, and flying arrows—there was a trap here, and a trap there. This route would lead to a spike fall, this button would rain fire down upon him…

As quick as it started, the _Premonition_ ended.

Shivering, Maana held himself—

Only now did he finally realize just how much he appreciated the company of Killua and Gon.

Approximately seventy hours, forty minutes, and thirty-seven seconds.

That was how long it had been since Maana first started his descent into the madness of Trick Tower; thus far, he’d crawled through tunnels and leapt across platforms, fending off beasts that came left and right; he also evaded a number of death traps, disarming almost a hundred and escaping nearly a thousand. With the help of his _Premonitions,_ he knew more or less where danger was located.

In the end, it had taken some time, but now he was certain he would see the end. After all, he’d made it this far into the Hunter Exam already. If he were to fail now, he would probably never see Killua or Gon again—

And that revelation alone felt lonely enough.

Halfway-through the dimly lit halls, a rumbling sound echoed in the silence. It took half a second for Maana to realize the noise had come from his _own_ body. Glancing down at himself, he rubbed his belly and agreed that he was starting to get a little hungry. Still—this was no time to sit and relax. With the time limit so close, he was going to have to hurry.

Heaving a sigh worth a thousand curses, Maana forced himself onwards. At this point, his feet were beginning to feel like lead, and with every step forward the blisters on his soles would ache as they pressed against the flat ground.

Even his bruises were forming bruises.

It wasn’t until the longest time later that the redhead was met with a metal door similar to the one from the beginning. Like before, the LED screen above it flashed on.

**“Quiz #2: A disgruntled child points a gun at you. They refuse to negotiate. What must you do?”**

Maana froze.

_‘… I want to save them.’_

“… Kill them before they kill you,” he muttered beneath his breath. There was stretch of silence before the door finally slid open—and Maana felt his heart stop. His throat seemed to constrict even tighter and somehow, he found that he couldn’t move forward, even if his time were running short.

Why? Why was it that the correct answer was to kill?

Why was it that people had to die when there were always so many other options to take?

_Why was it okay to kill a child simply because they weren’t in the right state of mind?!_

Those were all questions that Maana desperately wanted to ask, but in the isolation of that prison-like space, there was only himself. Swallowing back the bitterness in his mouth, he stepped forward into the dark. This time, he emerged into another room.

It seemed bigger, though appeared essentially the same, only this time there were two doors side-by-side.

“Oh damn, I’m stuck with a brat?”

Maana turned towards the unfamiliar voice, and jumped back in surprise upon seeing another person. This was the first person he’d seen in nearly three days—of course it’d felt surreal. The man in question appeared to be another examinee, and stood about six feet wearing rock-climbing gear. However, he didn’t seem to hold Maana in very high regard.

Before the boy even had a chance to introduce himself, the LED screen between the doors lit up, and the same robotic voice spoke.

**“Quiz #3: Which door is correct? Press X for Left, O for Right.”**

“In other words… we’ll have to come to an agreement,” Maana muttered.

“Well, that’s easy—since most people always go left, it’s obvious that the left door is going to be a trap. So the ‘right’ answer can only be _‘right’!”_ said the man, pressing a button on his own bracelet device shortly after. He hadn’t even thought to consult Maana before coming to his own conclusion.

_‘Whatever, it doesn’t matter—’_

Just as the redhead was lifting his hand, he felt the familiar cold chill of a _Premonition._ And like many occurrences prior, he could do nothing to stop it from happening. All that he could do was prepare himself for the vision by leaning his weight against the wall and holding himself tight. Everything around him sounded muffled, like he was underwater; then suddenly he saw it.

The right door opening.

Their screams filling the air, a spear ripping into their chest and spraying blood everywhere.

Then…

_Darkness._

This wasn’t just a normal _Premonition_ —Maana had just seen his own _death._

“What the hell is wrong with you kid, don’t tell me you ate some poison or something before getting here?” the man grumbled, his tone full of disgust. “At least press the button before you decide to pass on.”

“N—No,” Maana shook his head. “T—The right door is wrong. It’s left.”

“What?! Now you’re talking nonsense—look, just hand over your bracelet to me and I’ll let your family know you didn’t die in vain. Sound good?”

“Can’t you hear?! It’s _wrong!”_ the boy snapped, whipping towards the man with fierce eyes. _“You’ll_ die if you go through that door!”

A dark look flashed across the man’s face before he covered it with a hand. Slowly, he approached the redhead, and when his hand lowered the anger from before was replaced with an eerie calmness. Leaning down, he gestured for Mana to hold out his hand. “Give the bracelet to me.”

Shaking his head, Maana held his hand to his chest. _“NO!_ Just believe me, and we’ll both get out of here ali—”

A bolt of pain bolted through the side of Maana’s head, shocking him. It was then that he finally realized the man had just _struck_ him in the jaw. Even after the pain finally subsided, the right side of his face still felt numb. His vision trembled, and he stared up at the man fearfully.

“… It’s _left!_ I—I’m telling you… it’s le—"

Another strike, this time to his stomach.

“Give me the bracelet.”

Groaning, Maana mustered enough strength to shake his head again. “…Y—You’ll d—die, you’ll die—”

Again, the man struck him. Over and over, he would try to pry Maana’s hand from his body, but the boy refused, holding his hand tighter still. Finally, with one final punch, he knocked Maana nearly unconscious. Having grown so weak, he was incapable of stopping the man anymore. His heart raced nearly out of his chest, and he watched in fear as the man pulled Maana’s wrist towards his body.

“… Don’t blame me, boy,” he muttered, his dark eyes narrowing. “But I’m not gonna fail the exam cause some kid decided to throw a hissy fit.” After pressing the ‘O’ button, the right door finally slid open—

With one final burst of strength, Maana grabbed onto the man’s leg with a vice grip, still shaking his head and sputtering whatever words he could.

“Get! The! Fuck! _Off!”_ roared the man, his captured leg swinging with every enunciated word. Still, he managed to drag himself towards the open door before finally shoving the boy off his leg. As he stood before the doorway, a smirk spread on his face.

“See? There’s noth—”

No sooner had he started taunting Maana that his chest was impaled; all that Maana could see now was the rich crimson shade of blood as it splattered over his body, and spilled onto the floor. The man looked down at the spear in his chest, then at Maana, before collapsing to the ground. Grasping the boy’s ankle, the man pulled himself towards him, his expression pleading.

“… H—Help…”

In just a few seconds, the light of life that burned within the eyes of all living beings was extinguished right before Maana. Wordlessly, he just sat there, staring at the dead man with wide eyes. Even when the left door opened, deeming Maana worthy to pass, he found himself unable to move. He couldn’t even think.

The room had fallen so silent, all that he could hear was the slow beating of his heart as something inside him begun to crumble. Then slowly, he stood up. As if in a trance, he crossed through the open door and down the winding hall. All that time, his head was blank; he was moving out of mere muscle memory. Then finally, he reached another dead end.

This time, there was only the LED screen that waited for him.

**“Quiz #4: You had the power to save that man. Why not?”**

Somehow, that inorganic voice began to sound scornful. Still, Maana had no answer to offer—what even was the right answer? With his head so empty, he shook his head and laughed in disbelief.

“… I don’t know.”

The sound of a buzzer blared in his ears, a bright ‘X’ flashing across the LED screen.

**“Wrong answer. You have two more attempts.”**

Clenching his fists, Mana squeezed his eyes shut. The coppery smell of blood filled his head, and that was all he could think about. Blood on the floor, blood in the air, _blood on his skin—_

“I—I don’t know!” he cried, gripping his head. Again, the buzzer rang, and Maana covered his ears in frustration.

Why, why, _WHY!_

**“Wrong answer. You have one more attempt.”**

Finally, he fell to his knees and curled into himself. Choking back sobs, he kept on shaking his head, unable to find the courage to admit the answer. He felt like a caged animal; like something inside him was trying to claw its way out. He wanted to scream, but his throat felt tight, so fucking tight—

Then finally, the noise stopped. Slowly, he stood to his feet again. Tears blurred his vision, burning the corner of his eyes as they slipped down his cheeks.

“… I can’t save everyone.”

A moment of silence…

Then the door rolled open. A flood of light bathed his aching body, filling his cold limbs with an unfamiliar warmth. As he lifted his chin, Maana met the faces of those who’d already reached the bottom of the tower.

**“Maana, applicant #18, is the nineteenth to pass. Total time, seventy-one hours, and forty minutes.”**

Even after making it to the end, the hollowness from before remained; unable to feel, or even think, the boy simply closed his mind to the world.


	4. Rock bottom

Killua was never the type to care for others.

Having been born into a lineage of coldblooded assassins, it was only natural that he would be just as ruthless. He didn’t even have to think twice before carving his nails into his mother’s face, or twisting the blade after stabbing his brother.

Yet upon seeing Maana’s for the first time since their separation, for the first time in his life, he felt something inside himself begin to squirm.

Large spots of blood stained the boy’s white clothes, but he didn’t seem to bear any wounds, aside from a few cuts and bruises. If he were stabbed, with that amount of blood he should have been dead—unless the blood wasn’t _his_ to begin with.

But Maana had never struck Killua as the violent type, even if out of self-defense. Matter of fact, it was his laidback nature that attracted Killua in the first place. Even if he got a bit cheeky at times, he would still maintain a lack of concern for himself that was, while amusing, frustrating to see…

What disturbed Killua most, however, was not the blood—growing up as an assassin, he’d become tolerant towards sights of that sort.

No, what disturbed him most was the utter lack of _life_ in Maana’s appearance. He seemed transparent in a sense, as though if Killua were to reach out and touch him, his hand would simply go through air. But of course, his body was there…

Something was just missing.

Killua barely had a chance to greet Maana before it was time for the fourth phase to commence. But even after the rules were laid out, and the remaining examinees boarded onto a boat headed for Zevil Island, it seemed Maana wasn’t actively looking for him or Gon either. Instead, he wandered off to a far corner of the boat, gazing into the ocean’s depth with the same faraway look from before.

Still, the white-haired boy did not approach him. Whatever issues he was having weren’t Killua’s problem—he hadn’t come to the Hunter Exam to be someone’s therapist.

But even as he turned his back towards the boy at the end of the boat, he couldn’t help but notice the bitter taste it left behind in his mouth. However, he didn’t get very far before being stopped by Gon, who gestured towards Maana with a look of concern.

“Oh, Killua… did you talk to Maana already?”

The white-haired boy made a face before averting his gaze. “No, I didn’t. It’s not our business in the first place.”

“Yeah, but something’s not right. I’ll go talk to him then, just wait right here—”

“No, Gon,” Killua reached out to pull the boy back by his sleeve, but he was quicker. Practically running towards the red-haired boy, Gon skidded to a stop just behind him. It was a bit comical, the way he teetered on his toes while waving his arms. As soon as he was balanced on the soles of his feet, Gon peered at the boy.

“… Maana?”

A moment of silence—then, the boy finally turned his head.

“… Oh… Gon…?”

Despite the despondence in his tone, Gon seemed happy to have heard Maana respond anyway. Cheerfully, he bounced on his feet like a sparrow, beaming with all his heart as he said, “I’m glad to see you’ve made it to the third phase too!”

“Third phase…? Ah… that’s right… I haven’t failed yet, huh…” Maana’s eyes widened as he lifted his hands, covering his face. “… I… made it to the bottom. I… passed?” Then he fell silent. After much thought, he finally lowered his hands and looked into the ocean again.

“… I’m sorry, Gon. Could you… leave me alone… for a little bit?”

“Maana…?” Gon’s smile fell, and he lifted his hand—

“—Gon,” Killua swiftly grabbed the green-clad boy by his wrist, pulling him away shortly after. “If he wants to keep to himself, then leave him—it’s not worth the chase.”

“Wait, Killua,” turning around again, Gon smiled at the red-haired boy brightly. “Maana! I’ll see you at the final phase! We’ll talk lots then, okay?”

Gon’s words, however, were met with silence. And as the distance between them and Maana increased, Killua refrained from looking back.

_‘… Just stop thinking about it.’_

Except, Killua _couldn’t_ stop thinking about it. Rather, it was all he could think about during the first few days he spent on Zevil Island. That’s why it was so frustrating—the fact that in a sense, they were still strangers—yet whenever Killua closed his eyes he would still see hints of that eerily dull expression burned into the blank space of his mind.

They weren’t friends.

Friends wouldn’t keep secrets, nor push each other away… not that Killua would really know, anyway. He’d never had friends growing up as a child; what made him think he would know what they did and didn’t do?

Of course, perhaps it was due to the influence of Gon, who was always optimistic and approached everything with a heart full of trust, albeit, a bit of ignorance as well. Since the start of the exam, it was clear where his loyalties lied; even if his Hunter License were on the line, he never hesitated to run and carry his friends on his back.

It was also probably the reason why he genuinely believed he would see Maana again.

That he possessed such a resolute conviction—Killua couldn’t understand it. So much so, it was beginning to frustrate him. What did Gon see in Maana that seemed so promising? There wasn’t even the slightest shred of strength left in eyes. To be in such a pitiable state, it was no better than death.

Anyone could see that.

Despite having such thoughts, there was still that little inkling on the back of his mind, like he knew that wasn’t the truth. Or rather, somehow, he couldn’t convince himself that that was the truth. Unlike Gon, who graced everyone he met with second chances, Killua was more levelheaded. This was because those he associated with also had a level of worth to him—the greater their potential, the more they meant to him.

And Maana was not exempt from that system. As cruel as it sounded, if the red-haired boy could not handle whatever it was that he faced in Trick Tower, he was no longer qualified to be a Hunter whether he made it to the bottom or not. Therefore, he was no longer of “worth” to Killua.

Speaking of “worth”…

Killua’s eyes towards the figures following behind him. For some time, there had been a few people following behind him—though he could never get a good look, he was positive one of the three was at least was someone from that trio of brothers. Coming from how sloppy his technique was, Killua presumed it was probably the ragged one of the bunch.

He was also probably the only one who meant any harm to Killua.

“You’re wasting your time. I’ll never give you an opening to attack, y’know,” he called out. However, his warning was met with an awkward silence. Sighing heavily, he spoke again, “If you’re not going to come out, I’ll come to youuu…”

Trudging down the trail, he muttered under his breath. For a bastard only worth one point to him, Killua was really going out of his way.

As if he didn’t have enough on his plate already.

Killua was in a good mood. Twirling tag #199 in his hand, he whistled in a merry tune as he wandered through the island in search of a good hiding spot. He had three days left to spare—meaning he could have three days of sleep. Not that he was tired, the Hunter Exam had been a breeze so far anyway, but there was no harm in saving energy.

All that was left was the final phase—then Killua would get his Hunter License. Even if he didn’t have a real use for it, maybe it could serve as a universal hand tool?

Snickering under his breath, Killua wondered how the Chairman would react if he saw such a renown object being used as a butter knife. Absorbed in his thoughts of petty uses for a Hunter’s License, Killua almost didn’t notice the man ahead of him. Albeit, by a few meters.

Quietly, Killua hid behind a tree, watching him curiously.

He was another examinee. It seemed that he hadn’t noticed Killua’s presence, since he stayed in his crouched position, aiming his bow-and-arrow at something in the distance. A trickle of sweat slipped down his face, and he seemed to be hesitating.

Changing his line of sight, Killua found what he was aiming at.

A _very_ familiar red-haired boy.

He wasn’t doing anything—he didn’t even have his guard up. Like a lifeless doll, he was simply sitting in an open patch of grass, gazing into the sky with the same glassy look he had on the boat.

_He was deliberately trying to fail._

Gritting his teeth, Killua considered turning back down the trail. He almost did too—

Then something stopped him. A mixture of frustration and disappointment—the feeling he used to get upon seeing his favorite super hero be knocked down and beaten into the ground. But that wasn’t it. What Killua felt most—no, what he wanted most—was to punch that foolish boy in the face and pull him to his feet.

He wanted to shake his shoulders and yell at him; to tell him he was acting like an idiot.

Worst of all…

At least once, Killua wanted to see him genuinely smile.

Finally, the man holding the bow seemed to pull himself together. Stretching his bow as far as it could go, building tension that would lead to one powerful shot, he held his breath for a second before releasing it—

The arrow hadn’t even made it a centimeter before Killua was standing above the man, the arrow caught snug in his palm.

The melodious warble of songbirds above them, followed by a chorus of foliage rustling in the sea-scented breeze, filled the silence between them. Then slowly, Killua leaned down, until his lips were just beside the man’s ears.

“… Your tag. Hand it over.”

Obediently, the man reached into his vest and pulled it out for Killua to take. Even after plucking it from his grasp, those fingers continued to tremble. With a gentle smile, Killua held the man’s shoulders comfortingly.

“If you run, I won’t chase you. However…”

A chill filled the air, and one drop of sweat turned into a multitude.

“… If I see your face again, who knows what’ll happen.”

Then Killua released him—and he could’ve sworn he’d never seen a human run for their life as fast as that one. Subduing a chuckle, Killua slid down the hill and headed for the boy in the grass.

He stayed in the same spot, with his legs tucked underneath his body and his hands to the side. When he sensed Killua coming, he turned his head ever so slightly.

“… Why did you stop him.”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Killua snorted.

“Is that all I get for helping out?”

His response was met with silence—as expected. Maana seemed to return to the blankness of his mind, as if Killua were no longer there. Then a hot feeling filled Killua’s stomach, and before he could stop himself, he opened his mouth.

“So you were just gonna let that bastard kill you, huh?!”

Again, Maana turned towards Killua—this time, there was something in his gaze. It was faint, but he could sense it— _anger._

“If you understand that much… then leave me alone,” he muttered before standing on his feet. But as he turned away, Killua grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He just barely restrained himself from ramming a fist into that irritatingly dull expression.

“… What the hell is wrong with you. I don’t know what happened in Trick Tower, but it can’t be worth dying at the hands of some nobody. If you’re gonna off yourself like a coward, then have the decency to do it with your own hands.”

At the sound of those words, it seemed like something in Maana finally snapped. In the span of a few seconds, he latched a hand onto Killua’s wrist, using it as leverage as he spun around, his leg flying towards Killua’s face at breakneck speed.

Unfortunately (for him), Killua was much faster. Releasing his grasp on Maana’s shirt, he grabbed his ankle instead. Shortly after throwing him to the ground, he restrained both arms behind his back with one hand, the other pressing the boy’s head against the earth.

“Nice try, but you’re up against a professional assassin, in case you’ve forgotten,” he huffed. Though Maana squirmed in fruitless attempts to free himself from Killua’s hold, he quickly gave up. Instead, he lied still and hid his face in the ground.

“… Are we done playing now?”

Silence.

“Hell _ooo—”_

Suddenly, Killua heard a noise—closing his mouth, he leaned towards Maana. Then he heard it again—the faint, but familiar, sound of sniffling. Shuffling his body, Killua held his knee against the boy’s arms and with his free hand, angled Maana’s face towards him.

Though he fought, just as before, he quickly relented.

Tears visibly streaked down his dirt-covered cheeks; with pursed lips and wet eyes wide like saucers, he stared up at Killua with the expression of a scolded child. _It was almost cute._

Hesitantly, Killua loosened his hold on the boy, gradually releasing him. Then finally, he backed away, watching the boy slump against the ground in defeated fashion. He still hadn’t said anything, simply continuing to cry silently to himself.

“… Won’t you tell me, Maana?” Killua said, eyes downcast. “At least tell me what happened at Trick Tower. I won’t understand anything if you don’t say anything.”

“… I can’t.”

“Why not?!” Killua felt the irritation from before flaring up again. “I thought we agreed to be allies! Being allies means helping each other, right?! How could I possibly help if you won’t tell me anything?!”

“… I just can’t tell you, Killua…!” sobbed the boy, who was now curling into himself. “Th—There’s just some things… that I can’t tell anyone…”

“And why not?!” he shouted, grabbing Maana by the shoulders and lifting him off the ground. The red-haired boy glared at him, pushing his hands against the other’s chest in an attempt to push him off.

_“Cause no one ever believes me anyway!”_

Immediately, a heavy silence filled the air between them; then gently, Killua released Maana’s shoulders. Staring into his glistening golden-amber eyes, he mumbled, “You believed me, didn’t you?”

A puzzled expression came over Maana’s face.

“You believed me. It’s only logical I’d believe you too, right?”

For a moment, Maana stared up at Killua with eyes wide with wonder—then finally, he broke. A mixture of choked sobs and laughter erupted from his throat as he clenched onto Killua’s clothes so tight, his fists begun to turn white and tremble.

As his laughter subsided, so did his tears, until gradually he made no sound at all. He simply held onto Killua, like if he were to let go, he would fall into some distant abyss.

Then finally, he looked up, his eyes pleading—

“You’d… really believe me?”

As a gentle breeze passed, the smell of the ocean filled Killua’s nose again; the long grass blew around their bodies, tickling their sides as they swayed with the wind. Nodding, Killua moved closer to the boy.

“… Okay.”

Maana closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of air before opening them again.

“I suppose I’ll start from the beginning, then.”


	5. He who saw into the Abyss

_a long, long time ago, there lived a boy with wild hair red like the evening sun, and eyes gold like summer wheat. that boy had a mother, a father, a big brother, and a big sister. he also had a mentor who’d visit nearly every day to teach him things unknown._

_the boy was happy. he loved his family, but he loved his teacher most, because it was him who showed the boy music, and dancing; the sky, and the clouds; the green grass, and the brown earth. all that the world had to offer, his teacher placed into his eager hands._

_yes—he was very happy._

_then one day, the boy’s sister fell while gathering threads of golden grass and sweet lavender._

_day after day, she would lay in bed, gazing pitifully out her window. feeling sympathy for his homebound sister, the boy began to tell her all that his teacher told him. at the end of every story she would always smile, clapping her hands as she praised him, stroking his childish ego._

_he’d never realized before, how beautiful his sister’s smile was—so bright, and full of light. and every time she smiled, he would hold her hand and promise her that one day, when she was better, she could travel the world with him._

_… then one morning, the boy’s sister never woke from her deep slumber._

_taken so swiftly by the dark of the night, she’d barely lived before the light of her candle was extinguished. and as his mother, his father, and his brother all mourned, the boy realized something._

_his teacher had never told him about death._

_night after night, he was plagued with nightmares of a great darkness—_

_sometimes it would appear as a three-headed dog with jaws big enough to swallow him whole; then a robed man wielding a great blade to take his life on others._

_but as terrifying as those were, they were not the dreams he feared most._

_no—the ones that he truly feared were the ones that weren’t dreams at all. the ones that were simply a hollow darkness, trapping him in an eternal-like slumber._

_just like his poor sister, who never woke from hers._

“It was probably then that the Premonitions started.”

Killua, looking up from a long thread of grass he’d been playing with, quirked an eyebrow. “Premonitions…?” he parroted.

“… You see, Killua, shortly after I started having those nightmares, I gained a… _peculiar_ ability,” the red-haired boy explained. His eyes shifted uncomfortably, and he begun to fidget where he sat. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth again. “… I can sort of see into the future. Or rather… I have a _sixth sense.”_

He glanced at Killua again, gauging his reaction. Determining that the white-haired was taking his words seriously, he continued. “I can see when my life is in danger—and if it’s bad enough, I can actually see my own death before it happens.” Again, he peeked at Killua with rueful eyes.

“… Don’t you think this is all just nonsense?”

His voice sounded weirdly small, like he was expecting Killua to start ridiculing him. And to some extent, that was true—but not for the reasons he would have expected. The corner of his lips lifted, and he tossed aside the grass he’d been playing with.

 _“Maaan,_ was that all? You built up all that hype for such a little secret?” the white-haired boy held his stomach as he laughed, tears burning to corner of his eyes. “You’re even worse than Gon, _ahahaha!”_

A red blush bloomed on the other boy’s cheeks, and he glared at Killua with the indignance of a scorned cat. “Wh—What was that?! How dare you…! I’m opening up to you, and this is the response I get—I—you! _Aaargh, why even bother!”_ Huffing, he crossed his arms and twisted the other way.

“Oi, oi—it was just a joke, I was kiddin’, so no need to get so heated up…” sighed Killua as he leaned towards Maana, “You’re too petty, you.”

“Ugh—whatever,” Maana spat, still refusing to meet Killua’s gaze. However, he looked up, a grim expression on his face. “Anyways, I don’t remember much after my Premonitions started… in fact, I can barely remember the story I’ve just told you. Everything I know from my past is just fragmented junk that I’m still putting together.”

“… Why’s that?”

Glancing at Killua, he nervously dug a finger into the hard earth as he collected his thoughts.

“… Because I just didn’t want to remember anything—so I simply stopped thinking. But one’s mind is a funny place, isn’t it…? The things you want to remember most are the things you often forget first, while the things that hurt are all that you can see when you close your eyes.”

Contrary to Maana’s expectations for the boy to react in some foolish manner, instead, he was met with a serious gaze.

“Well? Go on,” he said. “There’s more to the story, isn’t there? Finish it, then.”

“… Are you familiar with the Stella Isles massacre?”

At those words, Killua’s eyes widened—the Stella Isles were a collection of islands just north of the Republic of Padokea—Killua’s birthplace. Though he was six when the incident occurred, he was already mature enough to understand the bloodshed that tore the land apart after a coup d'état gone awry. Nonetheless, it was a story that stayed in the newspaper for several years—it would have been stranger for Killua not to have heard of it.

“Are you saying—”

“Yes. I was born and raised in mainland Inlustria, where the coup started. Although I wouldn’t say that I knew what was going to happen, with a catastrophe on that level, my visions were so much more vivid. And you know, Killua…”

Maana peered up through dark, glassy eyes, a scornful smile on his face.

“It doesn’t take much to tear apart a child.”

A gentle breeze passed between the boys, the long grass whistling a haunting tune that was almost familiar. Though Maana was sitting right before Killua’s eyes, somehow, he felt far, far away.

“… What did you see in Trick Tower, Maana?”

“What do you think? I saw his death. Or rather— _my_ death. But he was going to die as well,” said the boy, his eyes growing wetter as he spoke. It seemed he realized this as well, wiping away the forming tears and huffing in frustration.

“It’s only natural, isn’t it? To want to save those who can be saved. Yet these hands…” Maana choked back a sob as he clenched his knees, tears dropping from his cheeks like rain. _“These hands could never save anyone…!”_

As Maana sobbed, his cries echoed across the silent woods—and he looked…

Pathetic.

Sighing, Killua fell into the grass with a heavy thud. Looking into the sky, he watched two birds in the distance circle around one another in a monotonous dance. Then he opened his mouth.

“… Thirty-one.”

Puzzled, Maana glanced down at the white-haired boy.

“That’s the number of people I killed by the time I turned six,” he explained, folding his arms behind his head. “So I don’t get why you’re crying over a bunch of people whose deaths you had no part in. I mean, you were just a kid. And still are. How could you save anyone?”

“… I know that, but with my ability, I could have—”

“Man, don’t you get it?!” Killua sat up again, poking Maana between his eyes. “That’s why I’m saying stop beating yourself up over it! Just be glad that _you’re_ still alive! So that these hands”—he grabbed the boy’s fingers, holding them up to his face—“Are still capable of saving people’s lives!”

Dumbfounded, Maana stared at Killua, unable to speak.

“Killua—”

 _“AHEM_ —anyways,” said the white-haired boy abruptly, a hint of pink in his pale cheeks. “If you finally understand, then we’re done talking about it. We have something bigger to focus on now anyway. Whose tag are you hunting?”

This time it was Maana who blushed. Scratching his cheek, he pulled out the card he collected from before the start of the third phase and showed it off hesitantly—

_The dumbass hadn’t even peeled off the sticker._

“YOU’RE AN IDIOT, YOU!”

“Ouch, Killu _aaaa,_ ooooowww!”

“HOW DUMB CAN YOU POSSIBLY BE?! AND HERE I THOUGHT GON WAS THE ONLY IDIOT, BUT YOU’RE JUST AS BAD! NO, YOU’RE WORSE—!”

“Stop, stop, I get it!” whined the red-haired boy, pulling the other’s hands off his earlobe before he could rip it off his head. “I’ll peel it off now, so lay off already…”

After doing so, he peered at the number beneath the sticker.

“… #288.”

Killua blinked, then pulling out the tag he’d taken from the examinee from earlier. Placing it beside Maana’s card, sure enough, the numbers matched up—

“You’re… gonna be really good at gambling.”

“… Eh…”

The deadline for tag-hunting quickly crept upon the inhabitants of Zevil Island, and when it was time for roll call, Killua and Maana were the first to arrive. Then shortly after, they reunited with the ragtag team that was Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio.

Later on the same day, the examinees were board onto another airship, presumably heading for the final stage of the Hunter Exam. From there, those remaining were each taken to see the president of the Hunter Association and asked the same set of questions:

Who had they been observing the most?

Who did they want to fight the least?

Of course, Maana was looking out for Killua and Gon. Without their support, he would not have gotten as far as he did—though with a measure of reluctance, he found himself admitting to the Chairman that they were somewhat special to him as well.

On the other hand, there were a number of examinees he found less than pleasant. Namely, the strange jester named Hisoka, and Gittarackur, the twitching pincushion that always seemed to be watching something in the distance.

Having satisfied the Chairman, the meeting ended with short pleasantries before Maana was sent on his way.

Shortly after arriving to their destination, a hotel that'd been reserved specially for them, the remaining examinees were granted a day of peace and preparation before the final part of the exam. The free time granted was much appreciated and used wisely by Maana; he even had enough time to spare to formally introduce himself to Gon’s friends.

The day came and went—thus beginning the long-awaited final phase of the Hunter Exam.

"Well, gentlemen," greeted the president with unusually great enthusiasm, "Did you get plenty of rest? For the final phase, we will be holding a one-on-one tournament. By the way, this hotel is owned by the Hunter Exam Selection Committee. So, until the battles have concluded, this place is all yours!

"But, that's beside the point. Regarding the final phase, one win is all you need. The winners are removed from competition, while the losers continue up the bracket. In other words, the loser at the top will not pass. Now, does everyone understand?"

"So… you're saying that only one person will fail," repeated the ninja, Hanzo.

Netero nodded in response to his question, then gesturing to a cloth-covered board behind him.

"Exactly. And here is the bracket."

He took hold of the cloth that covered the banner of names, pulling it off with the flick of his wrist. Now standing before the examinees was a large eraser board—drawn on it was the bracket the Chairman had mentioned from before.

The final phase was to begin with Hanzo against Gon, then either of those two against the archer Pokkle. The list then continued with Maana, Killua, Gittarackur, the martial artist Bodoro, Kurapika, Hisoka, then finally, Leorio.

It was an odd system of battles that could even be called unfair. Hanzo and Gon were given five chances of victory while some others, such as Leorio, were only given two. Per the Chairman’s words, it was based on performance during the Hunter exam, no doubt implying that some examinees had more potential to be Hunters than others.

"Well, now that everyone is aware… the battle rules are quite simple," explained Netero as the examinees waited in anticipation, "Weapons are allowed. If your opponent admits defeat, you win… _HOWEVER"—_ Netero paused, his narrow eyes peering at each examinee carefully—"If you kill your opponent, you will be disqualified immediately. All remaining applicants will pass, and the exam will end. Are we clear?"

A collective silence in the room was what answered the Chairman. Wearing a smirk, he gestured to the suited man standing beside him. Nodding, the man turned to the examinees and spoke.

"Then, we shall begin the exam's Final Phase."

The first fight, Hanzo versus Gon, ended in Gon's victory following grueling three hours of torture under Hanzo's mercenary skills. It was a match difficult to watch, and amazingly intense for the first battle of the final phase. The raw power and deadly techniques the ninja displayed during Gon's torture showed the examinees just how merciful he was—while deadly all the same time.

However—Gon was someone not to be taken lightly. Despite his naïve and passive demeanor, his determination and willpower were near miraculous—one could even say that his desire to become a Hunter like his father was the simple reason for his victory.

Matter of fact, out of all those taking the exam, he probably offered the most potential as a Hunter.

Shortly after Gon’s victory, the matches continued with Hisoka and Kurapika, ending in Kurapika's abrupt victory after a brief word of exchange between them. Their match was followed by Hanzo and Pokkle, ending in another quick victory after Pokkle was subjected to the same torture method used on Gon. From thereon, it was Hisoka’s win against Bodoro and Maana’s win against Pokkle.

Things progressed in that same pattern until it was Killua against Gittarackur, the needle man.

Gittarackur stood almost a meter tall, and the needles embedded into his face looked painful, but he appeared not to even notice. However, the way he gazed down at Killua with such serenity, it disturbed Maana…

It seemed that Killua noticed as well, having become unusually cautious as he approached the man. Each step he took closer to the man was careful, and he eyed him suspiciously.

It was then Gittarackur finally spoke.

"It's been too long, Kil."

His voice was warbled, sounding both old and young, but Killua seemed to recognize it regardless—and he _froze._

As Gittarackur started to pull needles from his face, his looks began to change. _Crack crack crack—_ one by one, his joints snapped and popped and creaked—until he was someone entirely different.

"I-Illumi…" Killua murmured, quivering now. He stared up at the young man, whose hair was as long and dark like as his eerily wide eyes. They regarded Killua with a disturbing familiarity.

"Hey," he said. His expression was stoic, and his voice lacking any sort of human tone. "I heard that you cut up Mom and Milluki."

"I-I guess."

"Mom was crying… tears of _joy._ She was so happy to see that you'd grown up. But she was worried about you leaving home, so she asked me to check up on you. And what a coincidence. I didn't know that you wanted to be a Hunter. I'm trying to get a license, too, for my next job."

"I don't really want to be a Hunter,” replied Killua, averting his gaze. “I just felt like taking the exam."

"I see... " Illumi’s expression stayed impossibly calm, and he never once looked away from Killua, "That's a relief. Then I have some advice for you: you're not cut out to be a Hunter. You were born to be a killer. "

At the sound of those words, Maana’s hands clenched. A few days ago, Killua himself told Maana that he was a killer—that he didn’t mind killing people. But somehow, something felt wrong about the way this man was saying it.

Like he knew Killua personally—like Killua wasn’t his own person with his own thoughts.

"You're a puppet of darkness, without passion. You don't want anything or wish for anything. As one who lives in the shadows, you can only have pleasure when people die. That's how Dad and I raised you. What would you accomplish by becoming a hunter?"

"True, I don't desire to become a Hunter. However! I _do_ have something I want..." Killua's voice was feeble; his skin pale and his fingers trembling. But he didn’t waver.

"You don't—"

 _"I do!_ There's something I really want!" he insisted, his eyes desperate yet determined—he was finally starting to fight back.

"Hm? Then tell me what it is that you want," replied Illumi, gesturing for him to speak. Killua hesitated at the response, and he glanced at Maana wordlessly.

"What's wrong? There's nothing you really want, is there?"

"That's not it! I want to become friends with Gon… and Maana. Because I'm sick of killing people... I want to become friends with them both, and to live a normal life—"

"That's impossible. You'll never be able to make friends. Your only concern when you meet someone is whether you should kill them. That's how you were trained. You just don't know how to classify those people because they're too dazzling for your eyes. You don't actually want to become friends with them…" Illumi insisted. His tone was aggravatingly calm, and Maana was tempted to speak up.

But his throat just felt too tight, and his mind blank.

"You're wrong..." Killua lifted his chin, but the light in his eyes had dulled. He was afraid again.

"If you stay with them, you'll end up wanting to kill them one day. You're get the urge to see if you can kill them or not. Because you have the soul of a killer."

_"Killua!"_

All eyes were on Leorio—the one who had shouted out to the white-haired boy. His eyes were filled with a bright fire as he pointed towards Illumi.

"I don't give a damn if he's your brother. He's a worthless piece of crap! Just beat the crap out of him like usual and win! And come on, you want to become friends with Gon? Are you daft? _You guys are already friends!"_

"H-He's right, Killua!"

Like a torch had been passed down to Maana, a ripple of courage coursed through his body, filling his veins with a fire as he shouted in hopes that his voice would be heard.

"Killua, you…! You and Gon are both important to me! So please… _please fight back!"_

Illumi turned his head, his endless eyes turning on Maana.

“Oh… is that so?”

A cold feeling filled Maana’s stomach, making his skin prickle and his eyes water. Still, he clenched his fists and nodded with determination. “Y—Yeah! That’s true!”

"Really... that's no good. You both consider Kil a friend already?” the black-haired man tilted his head, holding his chin as he went into deep thought. “Ah, well, okay, I'll just kill Maana here, then Gon after.”

Fear tore through Maana’s body; unconsciously, he held himself as he watched Illumi stride towards him—his gaze was deep, so deep Maana could feel it in the marrow of his bones.

In the few short seconds that it took for Illumi to cross the room, much to the red-haired boy’s surprise, Kurapika and Leorio were standing right before him, their weapons drawn towards Illumi’s approaching figure.

Glancing over them, he seemed to have come to an epiphany.

“Oh no… this won’t do. I need a Hunter’s License for my next job, but if I kill them I’ll fail… then Kil will automatically pass. Oh darn, but the same thing will happen if I kill Maana and Gon!”

But his dilemma was short-lived; at the snap of a finger, it seemed he’d already come up with a solution.

“I got it! I’ll pass the exam before killing them.”

An unfamiliar expression flashed across Killua’s face—an emotion that was ill-suited on a boy as brazen as him.

Illumi approached Killua, reaching out to his trembling figure.

“You have to beat me if you want to save them… will you fight me for the sake of your friends? But you can’t—because you’re more worried about whether or not you can defeat me. And you already have your answer: ‘I’m not strong enough to fight my brother. Never fight an enemy you can’t beat.’ I drilled that into your head, after all…”

Killua, in fear, took a step back—

 _“Don’t move!_ If you move an inch, I’ll assume the fight has begun. And if our bodies make contact, that will also mean the match has begun. There’s only one way to stop me… you know what that is.”

The closer Illumi’s hand drew, the more Killua trembled.

“But don’t forget… if you don’t fight me, your dear friends will die.”

The longer Killua gazed into the endless eyes, he seemed to grow smaller and smaller, until he finally dropped his head.

“… I surrender.”

In that same moment of despair, Maana had a thought—both unconscious and unwanted.

_‘Ah… so you’ve seen the abyss as well, Killua.’_


	6. To Have a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here's a super long chapter for you guys! since i just did a super quick revision, there's probably going to be a few mistakes, so let me know if you guys find some!
> 
> and i'll be honest, i wasn't expecting any readers since the hxh hype has died a bit and a lot of the story thus far has been a recap of the anime/manga. but thanks to those who have stuck with me so far, i love y'all!

_‘… i’m here again.’_

_the boy looked up to the familiar grey sky, sparks of red and particles of black drifting with the lifeless wind. carrying with it was a miasma of gas and burning flesh mixed, filling his insides and hollowing him out. and how many times was this going to happen? how does one walk until their feet have long torn, yet still reach nothing?_

_this city was endless. this world was endless._

_this dream…_

_forever endless._

“Maana.”

A gentle voice was what stirred Maana from slumber, drawing his conscious forth and blowing the breath of reality into his mind. Opening his sleep-crusted eyes, he met the gaze of a blonde-haired boy with dark eyes.

“… Oh. Kurapika…?”

“We’re almost there. We still have an hour yet, but… it seemed like you were having a bad dream,” said the young man, his gaze apologetic. And upon hearing those words, Maana made a face.

“Is that so… it’s strange. Killua’s said the same thing to me before.”

“Has he? Then… if you don’t mind me asking, what was it that you dreamt about? Perhaps venting will make you feel better.”

A sheepish smile tugged on the boy’s lips. “I’ve told this to Killua too, but… I don’t even remember dreaming in the first place. Sorry.”

“I see. That’s fine—pardon my rudeness.”

“Aah, no, you weren’t being rude or anything!” Maana waved his hands, “I’m sure you had good intentions. For that, I’m thankful—honestly.”

Which was true. Even if Maana had only known Kurapika and Leorio for a few days, their protective nature and sincere desire to help Killua was all he needed to trust them. Besides—anyone that Gon respected, Maana knew to respect as well.

Sharing rueful smiles, both boys settled back into their seats and watched the early sky.

The bus ride to Kukuroo Mountain was a long, but scenic one that offered much to know about the Republic of Padokea. A long time ago, Maana had come there alongside his family on vacation, but his memories of the land were vague. The only thing familiar to him now was the jittery excitement that came from being in a new, foreign land.

In the distance was a large mountain—presumably Kukuroo. Surrounded by large, grey clouds and significantly darker than the vibrant-green nature surrounding it, the landmark was as ominous as it was magnificent.

Halfway up the hill that would lead to the Zoldyck Mansion, the bus slowed to a stop; as the trees separated, the first thing Maana saw was the massive gate that blocked them from entering the family property. Rather than a singular gate, there was a _collection_ of them, each stacked atop the other.

“This is the front gate of the Zoldyck estate,” chirped the tour-guide—a rather enthusiastic woman who made the Zoldycks sound more like A-list celebrities as opposed to a psycho family of assassins. “It’s also known as the Door to Hades, because no one who’s entered has ever returned alive. To enter, you must pass through the door beside the security checkpoint. But the area beyond the gate is private property, so we can’t proceed.”

“Hold on! This is the front gate?! The mountain’s all the way over there!”

Leorio’s expression was as shocked as his tone—he resembled a goldfish the way he stood with his mouth agape and eyes wide-open.

“Well, yes… the Zoldycks own Kukuroo Mountain, as well as the surrounding land.”

Maana felt something inside himself collapse—maybe it was because of his commoner status, but he found it baffling that anyone in the world needed to own _that_ much property. Goodness—a mountain would have been more than good-enough space for him!

“Hey, Miss Guide…”

“Yes?”

Gon pointed at the gate. “What do we have to do to get inside?”

The guide’s lips curved into a noticeably faux smile, though her voice did not lose its chipper tone as she replied, “Little boy, were you listening to my explanation?”

“I was, but—”

“If you go inside, you’ll never get out alive!” she exclaimed, “They’re _assassins,_ if you’d recall!”

“Hah, it’s all a sham!”

All eyes were on the man who’d spoken. He was a rough-looking man whose face was as mediocre his height; over his shoulder, he carried a great sword. Accompanying him was a larger, burly man who looked just as run of the mill. It wouldn’t take a genius to tell that they were amateur bounty hunters.

Maana quietly nick-named them Stooge #1 and Stooge #2.

“A family of assassins that no one’s ever seen…” said Stooge #2, sharing a skeptical grin with his partner.

“Supposedly a photo of their faces is worth a hundred million. But it’s just another case of rampant rumors masking a mundane truth,” Stooge #1 sneered as he and his buddy strode towards the security office. Upon reaching the doors, Stooge #2 less-than-gracefully ripped the door off its hinges, yanking the guard forth by his collar and holding him in the air.

“Open the gate!”

“I—I cannot do that! The master would not be pleased!”

“Don’t worry. We’re going to kill your master…”

The guard hesitated before releasing a heavy sigh, digging into his coat and pulling out a key for them to take before being thrown aside. Almost immediately, Gon was at his side, helping him to sit up.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine…” he stared at the doors the bounty hunters had just gone through with an indignant expression, “Man… now Mike’s going to end up eating between meals again.”

Suddenly, perilous screams erupted from the other side of the door, ripping everyone’s attention from the guard towards it instead. But as soon as the screams started, they stopped, and an eerie silenced settled in replacement.

_Creeeaaaak…_

The doors opened once again; emerging from the crack was a large fur-covered arm. In its claws were _two very familiar skeletons._

Instantaneously, a cacophony of screams rang throughout the air as people scrambled towards the bus.

“Please… he’s only supposed to eat at certain times,” the guard scratched his head and sighed. Then he cupped his mouth, shouting, “Mike! Don’t blame me if you get fat!”

In their shock, the remaining four could only stand and stare in a dazed silence.

“Hey, booys!” called the tour guide, waving her flag wildly. “What are you doing?! Hurry up and board the bus!”

Turning towards her with a sheepish smile, Gon replied, “Oh, you can leave! We’ll be staying here, Miss.”

Upon hearing those words, the guide stared at Gon with a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

And it seemed the guard had the same reaction.

By the time Gon finished telling the guard their story, the sky was already a brilliant cream orange, with hints of scarlet tracing the horizon.

“I see… so you’re young Killua’s friends. I’m glad to hear that. I’ve worked here for twenty years, but this is the first time any friends have come to visit…”

Having poured them each a cup of tea, the guard settled into his chair and smiled at them warmly.

“Since I work here, I shouldn’t say this, but this place does get rather lonely. No one ever visits. Though we do see a lot of _those…”_ he said, pointing his thumb towards the remains of the bounty hunters that were now stuffed into a trash. “Well, a family of assassins is rather unusual in the first place, so I suppose it’s the price they have to pay. Anyway, I’m glad you’re here—however… I cannot let you inside.”

Upon seeing their tense expressions, the guard sighed.

“Didn’t you see the large arm of the creature? Its name is Mike. It serves as the Zoldyck family watchdog. It only obeys family and will attack anyone else. Of course, that means the beast still follows the order its master gave it ten years ago… to kill every single intruder.

“But technically, he isn’t following the order, because he keeps eating them, ahahaha! Anyways, I can’t let you inside. I wouldn’t want to reduce young Killua’s friends to skeletons, ahahah…”

Kurapika’s expression became puzzled.

“Sir, how is it that you’re safe? I mean, you go inside, correct? If you never needed to enter, you wouldn’t have a key.”

“That’s quite perceptive of you. But you’re only half-right. I require no key to get inside, since the one I have is only for intruders. This is because for some reason, eighty to ninety percent of intruders attempt to use the front gate. If I don’t open the gate for them, they’ll try to break it down. So, we added a locked door to the side for such troublemakers. The intruders take the key from the helpless guard, and then Mike eats them…”

At those words, Kurapika perked, seemingly having come to a revelation.

“… That’s it!”

“Hmph… as you just realized, I’m not a guard. I merely clean up after Mike.”

“Then the actual gate isn’t locked, huh…”

Maana put a finger to his chin, having come to the same conclusion seconds after Kurapika. Glancing at the large gate behind them, it seemed his initial thoughts were correct—

The gate must have had a strange gimmick to it, unlike any other.

When the sun finally set, and the sky cooled into a velvet blue with sprinkles of stardust, a number of things occurred. As Maana had thought, there was not one gate, but seven. The first gate weighed two tons, doubling as it went up. This meant that the number of gates that would open depended on the strength of the one pushing.

Supposedly, upon his return, Killua opened three—a whopping _sixteen_ tons.

That aside, Gon, unhappy with the condition that he had to be tested, called the butler’s office and insisted they grant him access. Obviously, he was refused, spurring him to throw a line over the gate and climb his way up. Thankfully, Zebro—the guard—managed to convince Gon to fall back before he could carry himself and Maana (who’d held onto Gon in a poor attempt to hold him back) over the gate to their untimely deaths.

Instead, he opened the gate for the group, introducing them to Mike—a large canine-like creature with strikingly human eyes. It’d become clear to Gon that he was unlike the wild animals he was used to—and having come to that realization, he gave in to the obstacles set before him.

In order to get to Killua, they were going to need to use their own strength to open the door that led to Hades.

“Here are the servants’ quarters. It’s getting late, so you can stay here tonight,” said Zebro as he pushed the door open. Glancing down, Maana couldn’t help but notice the scruff marks against the wood flooring.

“Hey, I’m back!”

Following Zebro’s call, a man emerged from atop the stairs. He glanced at the group, curiosity on his face. Making his way down, he looked at Zebro again.

“Oh, you rarely bring guests…”

Zebro gestured towards the man.

“This is Seaquant.”

Seaquant stood at a normal height, with dark skin and dark hair held up by a headband. His deep-set eyes seemed to regard the group with both admiration and to some extent, distaste. Taking the cigarette from his lips, he released a long breath, a cloud of smoke slipping from his lips.

“If you managed to win over Zebro, you must be special. Well, make yourselves at home, then—though it won’t be easy here.”

As he walked away, Zebro gestured for the group to follow, where they emerged into what looked to be the sitting room. After being seated, Zebro poured them each a cup of tea as Seaquant leaned against the wall, his arms folded.

“So? What brings you all here?”

Immediately, Gon’s face glowed, his lips stretched into an eager smile.

“We want to see Killua!”

“You want to see young Killua…? Heh, that’s a riot!” laughed the man, garnering a glare from Leorio.

“Sorry, but we’re dead serious.”

“Then let me give you some advice: give up and go home.”

“What was that?!”

“Zebro told you about the testing gate, right? That should give you an idea of what this place is like—”

“We understand that it won’t be easy. But I’m not leaving—not until I see Killua!” said Gon, his auburn eyes full of fire. “When Killua was in trouble, I wasn’t there for him. If I had been there, I could have stopped Killua!”

A regretful look flashed across Gon’s face, but his determination didn’t waver.

“Killua is my close friend!”

Upon hearing Gon’s words, a melancholic feeling settled itself inside Maana’s chest. His eyes lowered, and his throat felt unusually tight. As arrogant as Gon’s words sounded, they held merit—if he were there, he would have had the strength to stand up against Illumi Zoldyck and snap Killua out of his stupor.

Maana gazed at the hands that begun to tremble upon remembering the elder Zoldyck, and his depthless eyes—the way they reminded him of those hollow dreams he had as a child.

The utter powerlessness he felt upon facing the man was a feeling he could not easily forget. 

“We understand,” said Zebro to Gon, a smile on his face. “Then why not do some training here?”

The following days were filled with heavy lifting.

In order to open the Testing Gate, the group were tasked with various different forms of weight training, all while wearing a vest that would gradually increase in weight. Needless to say, it was a form of training that was no better than torture.

It didn’t help that with his arm broken, Gon was still in recuperation, thus unable to join as the others trained to open the gate—although it didn’t stop him from trying.

One evening, after a particularly grueling session, Maana happened upon Gon as he was doing handstands on one hand again. Sighing, he stomped towards the green-clad child, his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed.

 _“Gooon!”_ he scolded, watching as the boy jumped before hastily sitting on the grass. He smiled sheepishly at Maana.

“M—Maana… I was—I mean, I didn’t—”

“You—” sighing once more, Maana shook his head. “You’re the kind of kid that just can’t sit, huh?”

“Eheh… I guess.”

Sitting down next to Gon, Maana held his legs to his chest. Resting his chin against his knees, Maana glanced at the boy. “Gon, you… have really good friends, you know that? They came all the way here, and are even willing to go through this hellish torture to save Killua…”

“That’s not true,” said the boy. “They’re here because they want to save Killua too. That’s why you’re here, right?”

Smiling, Maana scratched his cheek; his face felt a little hot as he admitted, “Yes… Killua has done quite a bit for me. And besides…”

He lowered his gaze, feeling somewhat shameful.

“I couldn’t do anything for him. I’m… not as strong as you, Gon. When I saw Illumi Zoldyck, I froze up—and when he said he’d kill me… I couldn’t do anything. I was scared…”

Quietly, he laughed to himself. “You must think I’m a coward—”

“That’s not true either.”

“Eh?”

“You were brave enough to come with us because you still wanted to save Killua,” Gon smiled; in the orange glow of the sunset, he seemed golden—like an ephemeral being unique to that moment. Perhaps that was what drew so many people to Gon—the fact that in spite of his naiveties, there was something about him that brought out the true character in those he met.

“Gon… I didn’t tell this to you, but I think you deserve to know.”

“Hm?”

Looking into the sky, Maana released a long breath.

“Well, it’s probably better to start from the beginning.”

By the time Maana finished relaying his story to Gon, the sun had long since set, and the rhinestone stars glittering. At that point, Kurapika and Leorio had seemed to realize the boys were missing, finding their hiding spot in the woods and scolding them like puppies. Afterwards, they had dinner and were sent straight to bed.

Following that night, a few more days passed before Maana, Kurapika, and Leorio attempted to open the gate again. Much to their surprise, even with the strength of three people the gate had opened only slightly—

Thus, Gon—whose arm had somehow healed in the few days they spent training—threw aside his arm sling and pushed against the door along side them. And together, the four were able to open two whole gates.

After bidding Zebro and Seaquant farewell, the group followed the path as Zebro had instructed. However, along the way they came across yet another obstacle: a girl who introduced herself as Canary. She stood between the group and the rest of the path, carrying a long scepter that she used to draw a line between herself and them.

She was an apprentice butler for the family, ordered to keep out all intruders. Despite her warnings, Gon willingly came towards her, only to be struck down each time.

It wasn’t until the sun began to set that her composed demeanor begun to crumble, until finally, at the height of their emotions, Gon broke down the pillar beside her, demanding to see Killua. It seemed that his determination had resonated with her, and she broke down in tears.

But as she pleaded for Gon to save Killua, she was suddenly shot down by a mysterious woman who introduced herself as Killua’s mother, a young child standing beside her.

After expressing her distaste for being “insulted” by an apprentice butler, she revealed that she had come to relay a message from Killua. According to the woman, he did not want to see anyone.

However, as soon as she’d arrived, she was already hurrying off, seemingly disturbed by something only she had heard. Long after she and the child were gone, the four chose to continue down the path, having decided that they’d come so far already—

With the help of Canary, who recovered from her injury, they were determined to save Killua then and there.

Atop the hill, standing out against the darkness of the night, stood a tall manor. And as the group drew closer to the house, five men donned in black suits similar to Canary’s awaited their arrival. After being escorted inside, they were seated, with Gon’s injuries quickly tended to.

The Head Butler introduced himself as Gotoh. He was a large man, with paper-white skin that emphasized his deep cheekbones. On his face, he wore a pair of wireframe glasses that he would push up his nose every so often.

“So… is this not the primary residence?” asked Kurapika, glancing around curiously.

“No, this place is for the butlers,” replied Gotoh, confirming Kurapika’s curiosity. “Well, please make yourselves at home.”

“I appreciate the hospitality, but we’ve come to see Killua,” spoke Leorio. “Can you take us to him at once?”

“That won’t be necessary. Killua-sama is on his way here, so please wait a little longer.”

At those words, Maana felt something inside him begin to tremble. Whether it be excitement, or fear, he wasn’t sure which, but one thing was absolutely. _He had to see Killua!_

“Well… to simply sit and wait would be dull,” Gotoh hummed, fidgeting with his glasses. “How about a game, to pass the time?”

Kurapika’s eyebrow perked, and his gaze became suspicious.

“A game?”

Donning a sly smile, Gotoh drew a gold coin from his breast pocket and tossed it into the air before catching it in the same second. Holding both fists up, he gestured for them to pick.

“Which hand holds the coin?”

“The left hand!” the four answered simultaneously.

Gotoh’s smile softened, presenting the coin between his fingers.

“Correct. So, I’ll move quicker than before.”

Just as before, the coin was tossed and in the air for no faster than a second before it was caught snug in Gotoh’s palm.

“Well? Which hand?”

Smiling, Gon pointed at Gotoh’s left hand.

“The left!”

“Marvelous! Then I shall try harder this time.”

Just as Gotoh said, after tossing the coin into the air, his hand movements were as sudden as they were unexpected. Maana almost couldn’t keep up with his insane pace.

“Well? Which hand?”

The air became tense, as well as Gotoh’s tone. But before anyone could answer, Gotoh continued to speak.

"You see, I have known Killua-sama his entire life. I dare say that I care for him as though he were my own…”

Gone was the warm hospitality that had greeted them; now, there was a murderous rage that filled the room, wrapping around their throats like knives. Gotoh’s clenched hands trembled, veins protruding from his skin and threatening to pop if his wrath grew any stronger.

“In all honesty, I must despise you for trying to take him away,” he almost growled. “Well? Which hand? _Answer.”_

With a measure of caution, Kurapika answered, “… The left hand.”

Silence—then Gotoh opened his left hand, revealing an impossibly bent coin.

"His mother, my lady, could barely speak... she must be heartbroken, having to watch him leave once more. Such a thing—I cannot forgive it,” the butler glanced up at the group. “By the time Killua-sama arrives, a decision will be reached. I shall test you in my own way, and you will have no choice."

Suddenly, the remaining butlers each held blades to their necks—even to Canary, one of their own. Upon seeing this, Gon almost stood from where he sat.

"Canary!"

"This is her punishment for having brought you here, against her orders. That aside, I shall explain the rules. If one of you answers incorrectly, that person is out of the games. Should you all be disqualified, I shall tell Killua-sama that you left _—and that he will never see you again."_

Gon clenched his knees, growing tense at the threat.

"Killua will—"

 _"Silence!_ Your lives hang by a thread. Now, answer my question."

Once more, he tossed the coin; his pace was godlike, and his movements near unreadable. The heat he generated from his hands alone were enough to make them, quite literally, steam.

“… Which hand?”

Exchanging glances, it was clear to each other that neither one could keep up with the butler’s movements.

“Don’t take too long, now. You have three seconds to answer”—he nodded at the man who held Canary captive—“You hear me? After three seconds, slit her throat.”

The knife at Canary’s throat suddenly seemed sharper, gleaming brilliantly.

“W—Wait! Left hand,” Leorio blurted.

“I pick right!” followed Gon.

“Me, too!”

In the pressure of the moment, Maana found himself between two choices: under the possibility that right was correct, then there would still be three people left to guess. However, if it were wrong, then only Leorio would be left in the game.

A bitter taste filled Maana’s mouth, and he squeezed his knees. Reluctantly, he answered, “Left for me.”

_‘As they say… better to be safe than sorry.’_

Revealing the coin in his right hand, Gotoh stared at Maana and Leorio disapprovingly.

“Two disqualified.”

Just as before, Gotoh flipped the coin before catching it in the midst of his bizarre movements. Being stuck at the same dilemma as Maana, Kurapika chose right and Gon left—to which Gotoh presented the coin hidden in his left hand.

However, just as the butler tossed his coin into the air for the next game, Gon raised his hand.

“Wait a moment!”

Annoyed, Gotoh caught the coin and stared at Gon expectantly.

“If you’re trying to buy time, I’ll kill one of your friends.”

Gon glanced at Leorio. Without a second of hesitation, he opened his mouth, “Lend me your knife. I’m not going to do anything stupid with it, so don’t worry.”

Shortly after, he tore off the bandage that was over his eye and with the switchblade, he nicked where it was still swollen. After wiping the blood off on the sleeve of his jacket, Gon returned the knife and blinked slowly, readjusting his vision.

Before Leorio could reach into his case, Gotoh stopped him. He gestured to one of the butlers, who provided Gon a roll of medical tape. Thanking him, Gon tore off three pieces and placed them over his open wound.

Then finally, he looked up at Gotoh, his eyes ablaze.

“Okay—now I can see! Give me your best!”

At Gon’s behest, Gotoh stood from his chair and raised his hands. It was then that he was joined by the two other butlers, all of whom held their hands out as well. At once, all three begun to toss the coin between each other at a pace near impossible.

Their movements were as quick as they were jarring; Maana could barely tell what had just happened. Glancing at Gon, he waited for him to answer.

It seemed that Gon hadn’t even needed to think; his lips stretched into a sly smile as he raised a hand, his thumb pointing to the man behind him.

“The person right behind me.”

The butler behind him, with a measure of amazement, presented the coin in his hand. In the midst of the shocked silence, Gotoh couldn’t help but smile. As he and the other butlers begun to clap, the doors behind them creaked open.

“Gotoh! Is Gon and Maana here yet?”

At the sound of that familiar voice, Maana spun around, glowing with excitement.

Standing behind the group was Killua, donning a black turtleneck and jeans. It seemed that he had it rough where he had been as well, with his face being covered in light bruises.

“Oh! You guys are here! Along with…” Killua pointed at Kurapika. “Kurapika?”

“… I’m just an afterthought?”

“And Liorio!”

_“Le-o-ri-o!”_

“Anyways, it’s been a while! I can’t believe you guys actually came!” his lips curved into a sly grin as he peered at Gon. “What happened? Your face is a wreck!”

“Yours isn’t any better!”

Finally seeing Killua in person, Maana felt a certain weight lift from his chest. Smiling softly to himself, he pressed a hand against his chest, wondering if his heart was racing from the adrenaline earlier.

It seemed that before he knew it, Killua had already become someone irreplaceable to him.

The train ride from Kukuroo Mountain was still a long one—but with Killua’s return, the air had become so lively it barely bothered anyone. During that time, they instead spent it relaying the story of their journey to Killua, who listened eagerly.

“Then how’d you guys get here?”

“Leorio and I used our Hunter’s License,” Kurapika explained before gesturing to Maana and Gon. “Those two, on the other hand, used tourist visa.”

“Whaat?!” Killua stared at the two, his eyes wide open. “Both of you?! Didn’t you guys pass the exam?!”

“Well… I already decided. I’m not using my license until I’ve finished what I need to do,” said Gon.

“Ah… me as well,” followed Maana.

“What’d you guys need to do?”

Gon slipped a hand into his pocket, rummaging around as he spoke. “The tag that Hisoka gave me!” What he pulled out was a familiar tag—the ones from the Hunter Exam. The one in his hand, however, was #44— _Hisoka’s._ Presenting it to them, Gon continued, “He said I could only return it to him after I’ve punched him in the face, the way he did to me on Zevil Island! So that’s what I’m gonna do, and until I’ve done that I’m not gonna use my Hunter License, or go back to Whale Island!”

“Hmm… do you even know where Hisoka is?”

“Huh? Oh… um…”

Sharing collective sighs, everyone seemed to be thinking the same thing—except for Kurapika.

“I know where he is, Gon.”

“You do?! How?!”

“… He told me, after our orientation. Well, technically I asked him. But that was because during our fight…” growing hesitant, Kurapika took a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. “During our fight, he claimed to have information regarding the Phantom Troupe.”

“… The Phantom Troupe?” said Maana, tilting his head. He’d heard of them before—that infamous group of thieves who were known to cause destruction and death wherever they travelled, as well as stealing the world’s greatest treasures. They were also known worldwide as _Spiders._ What did Kurapika have to do with that group?

“I do not recall mentioning the Phantom Troupe to Hisoka. So either he overheard our conversation during the first stage, or he heard it from another. In any case, I was interested in what he had to say. But when I finally asked… all he’d said was that he’d await me in Yorknew City, on September 1st.”

_‘September 1 st? Why such a specific date?’_

“You’ve still got over half a year…” said Gon, having thought the same thing. “What’s going to happen in Yorknew City?”

It was then that Leorio snapped his fingers, having come to a revelation.

“They’ll hold the world’s largest auction!”

“Correct,” Kurapika confirmed. “From September 1st through September 10th, there will be an auction for unusual items, rare goods, and national treasures from around the world. The event attracts all manner of nasty folk who come looking to satisfy their greed. It’s the biggest gathering of money in the world.”

If that were the case, then Hisoka’s information truly held merit. After all, a place that reeked of wealth could attract only one kind of Spider…

“As a group of bandits, this is a chance they won’t allow to escape. So on that day, Hisoka will be somewhere in Yorknew City.”

“Okay—September 1st then,” Gon nodded. “Thanks!”

It was then that Killua nudged Maana, his gaze curious.

“What about you, then?”

“Huh?”

“You said you were on tourist visa as well.”

“Oh… my reason wasn’t nearly as grand, y’know,” Maana muttered, a red blush blossoming over his cheeks. “In fact, I’ve already done what I wanted to do.”

“Well, what was it? Spit it out, already.”

Scratching his cheek, Maana muttered, “… I wanted to see you again.”

In the span of a few seconds, Killua seemed to transition through several emotions before his eyes finally widened, his pale face blooming like a rose. The words uttered through Maana’s lips finally registered in his immature mind; like a boy who was just told that he was cute by the girl he liked, he reacted the only way he knew how.

_“P—PUNCH!”_

“What the— _OW!”_

Gone was the tense atmosphere from before, replaced with jovial laughter from Gon, Leorio, even Kurapika. And though his arm was sore where Killua had punched, Maana couldn’t help but smile as well.

Somehow, it felt as though his heart had become a little bigger.

Following the train ride from Kukuroo Mountain, Kurapika and Leorio departed from the boys after their promise to rendezvous in Yorknew City on September 1st. Even after their airship left, the boys chased after them, waving goodbye until they were but a distant dot in the sky.

“Oh! I gotta use the bathroom real quick, so wait for me, okay?” said Gon, who stripped off his backpack and handed it to Maana before racing into the building.

The silence between the red-haired boy and Killua was almost unbearable. It seemed that Killua was still flustered over what Maana had said on the train—as well as Maana himself. And for a long time, the silence continued, until—

“Um, Killua—”

“Um, Maana—”

Both stopped, glancing at the other in surprise, before sharing rueful smiles.

“You go first,” said Maana, gesturing. With a nod, Killua opened his mouth.

“Thanks for coming. I… was a little afraid when my mom said that my friends had come, that you weren’t going to be there. But I was wrong. So thanks. I guess,” he muttered, his summer-blue eyes locked on a trail of ants beneath their feet.

Maana laughed, scratching his cheek. Staring at the same line of ants, he murmured, “It’s only natural… we’re friends, after all. And…”

He pursed his lips, feeling his chest grow a little tight. Finally, he continued, “I never got a chance to say this on Zevil Island… but thank you. What you said to me… I think about it a lot. I really needed to hear those words, now that I think about it.”

He then reached out to Killua, tugging on his sleeve. And when those summer-blue eyes were on him, he could see himself in those eyes, wearing an expression he’d never thought he’d be able to make again.

“I’m really glad you’re the one who said all those things to me.”

Upon hearing those words, Killua’s eyes widened. Just as before, his cheeks flushed into a deep red as he realized the depths of Maana’s words. Then finally—

_“PUUUNCH!”_

“AGAIN?! OW!”

Maybe Maana was getting a little too emotional—if he were Killua, he probably wouldn’t have known how to react either. Despite his less-than-friendly response, it seemed that from the small smile on Killua’s face, he was happy.

Lowering his gaze, Maana’s fingers intertwined as he fidgeted uncomfortably on his feet. It felt as though his heart were trembling, and if he were to look at Killua any longer it would burst.

Still—this was a feeling Maana didn’t want to let go.

Not now.

_Not ever._


	7. Heaven is a Battlefield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the long hiatus without warning! i didn't plan on taking a break for so long, but by the time i started writing again it had been like two months lol. i'll warn you guys next time i decide to break.
> 
> anyways, i'm really surprised so many of you like this story! thank you to everyone for even giving it a chance, it makes my day!

Heavens Arena—said to be the holy land of those who lusted for blood and glory; a place to go all out, without regret nor restraint. It was a place Maana would have never expected to find himself, having always felt a strong aversion towards mindless violence.

Looking up the white tower, it seemed to loom over him oppressively, and he wanted nothing but to run away. However, for the sake of Gon as well as growth, he stomached his insecurities and trailed behind his friends as they entered the building.

The stench of sweat and testosterone made Maana’s head spin; as he pushed his way through a throng of participants and observers alike, his desire to run grew tenfold. Fortunately, as the line to registration became clearer, the crowd begun to thin.

“Oi, Maana—you good?”

Glancing up, his eyes met with Killua’s pitying gaze.

“I’m not dead, so at least I’ve got that going for me,” he replied, “The air is just stuffy in here.”

“’Stuffy’ huh…? Well, whatever. That aside, welcome to Heavens Arena!”

With open arms, Killua beamed at Maana and Gon like a proud father.

“This place has no conditions unlike the Hunter Exam. You only need to defeat your opponent. And the higher you go, the more prize money you earn. This is as good as it gets for those looking to make a living with their fists.”

“… As vulgar as this place is, I guess not everyone has what it takes to get through the Hunter Exam,” pondered the redhead, “Then again, the Hunter Exam really is no better, huh?”

“Vulgar or not, this is every man’s dream!”

With that said, Killua slung his arms around Maana and Gon’s shoulders, dragging them forward. Upon reaching the front of the line, the woman at the window greeted the boys cheerily as she slid three forms towards them.

“Please fill out this form!”

Promptly after, the woman filed their registrations and turned towards them once more.

“Killua Zoldyck-sama, you are #2054. Gon Freecs-sama, you are #2055. And, um… Maana-sama, you are #2056. They’ll call your number on the first floor of the arena, so make sure you remember it. Now then, please go on ahead!”

The first arena was not what Maana had expected; rather than a single ring, there were four rows of four each, making sixteen in total. Then, surrounding those was a cheering crowd; the sheer cacophony of cheers, boos, and shouting was enough to make Maana’s ears ring.

“It’s been a while, but this place hasn’t changed much,” sighed Killua.

“Huh?” Gon lifted an eyebrow in curiosity, “You’ve been here before?”

“Yeah, my dad left me here without a penny at just six. He said I should reach floor 200 before coming home, which took me two years.”

Maana felt his stomach drop at the thought of being left alone in a place so intense—and at such a young age, too. Glancing at Killua, however, and seeing the glow in his expression, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Gon, if you want to fight people of Hisoka’s level, you’ll need to go higher. So, we’ll need to hurry.”

“Ah, I got it…”

**“#1973. #2055. Please enter Ring E.”**

Upon hearing his number, Gon shot up from his seat. “That’s me!” he exclaimed, quickly stripping off his backpack and handing it to Killua. “Waaah, now I’m getting nervous…!”

“But Gon, you got through the testing gate, right? You as well, Maana.”

“Well, not without the help of everyone else…” muttered the redhead, his eyes narrowing.

“Help or not, you got it open with your bare hands. In that case, all you guys need to do in order to win is to just push _really_ hard.”

A single push? Maana’s face scrunched at the thought of winning with a single move—although, it only made sense. After all the weightlifting he did in order to open the Testing Gate, naturally, even _his_ thin body would become stronger…

Still, Maana felt no different from before.

But as he watched Gon enter the ring, how his small figure managed to send a guy triple his weight flying with a single push, his bones stirred with anticipation.

For the first time in his life, Maana felt the desire to fight.

Following the end of their respective matches, each boy found themselves having been sent to the fiftieth floor. Then after sharing celebratory high-fives, they headed for the elevators going up; as they entered, a woman greeted them.

“Welcome to Heavens Arena, and congratulations on your success! The first 200 floors are divided into classes, each comprised of ten floors,” she explained while closing the doors, “So if you defeat an opponent in the fifties, you may advance to the sixties. But if you lose, then you’d drop back to the 40s.”

“Oh, so that’s how it works…” hummed Gon, somewhat awestruck. While he was a bit of a wildcard himself, in the end, he was still a naïve child.

“Although, I’ve heard that after passing the 100th floor, you get your own room!”

Upon hearing an unfamiliar voice speak, the trio turned around, finding themselves looking upon a young boy like themselves. Though he was clearly a year younger, as well as shorter. Donning a white uniform reminiscent of martial artists from the east, he carried a mature air unlike his appearance.

“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself,” smiling sheepishly one second, then staring sternly with his arms reached out the next, he said, “Osu! My name is Zushi! What about you guys?”

“I’m Killua.”

“I’m Gon. Nice to meet you!”

“… And I’m Maana, their reluctant babysitter— _ouch!”_ rubbing where Killua pinched him in the arm, the redhead stuck his tongue out in retaliation.

But before he would have his righteous revenge, the elevator bells chimed, and the giggling woman gestured towards the opening doors.

“We’ve arrived at the fiftieth floor. Thank you for your participation, and may you find more success in future battle.”

As the boys exited, Zushi followed after them, his face glowing.

“I saw your fights earlier. They were really amazing!”

At those words, Killua lifted an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? You made it up here with one match, too.”

Lifting his hand, Zushi waved aside Killua’s words with a shy grin. “No way, I still have a long way to go… by the way, which martial discipline do you guys practice? I myself study the Shingen-ryu fighting technique.”

“School?” again, Killua gazed quizzically at the boy. Then he turned towards Gon and Maana. “We don’t have one, right?”

Though Gon shook his head, Maana raised his hand.

“Erm, now that I think about it, I guess I did learn a thing or two when I was younger…”

“You did?!”

Upon seeing the flabbergasted looks on his friends’ faces, Maana pouted as he crossed his arms. “Um, is it really that surprising? Don’t tell me you guys thought I got through the Hunter Exam with sheer luck alone… actually, never mind, whatever the answer is it’ll just piss me off.”

Curiously, Zushi asked, “If you don’t mind my prying, could you tell me what it was that you learned?”

“Hm? Well… I don’t really know the name of it. At the time I was living on temple grounds without permission, so it’s not like I really knew what they were doing. I was just copying what I saw.”

“Temple grounds? Copying what you saw…?” Gon tilted his head. “You never said anything to us about all that stuff, Maana!”

“Why are you so upset? It wasn’t worth mentioning in the first place. Besides, as you can see, I’m not much of a fighter in the first place.”

“Still, that you guys are so strong with little to no training… I’m kind of shocked! In that case, I still have lots to learn!”

From afar, the sound of clapping could be heard; shortly after, a man emerged from the crowd and approached the group. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, with dark hair and large glasses. Though he was sloppily dressed, Maana felt a sense of reliability in his gentle smile.

"Zushi. You did well," praised the man, "You adhered to my teachings."

“Osu! I am honored! Ah, but Master, your shirt is untucked again."

The man laughed ruefully, and he hastily tucked in the other half of his shirt. "Ah, sorry, sorry," he murmured with a flustered smile before finally noticing the others’ presence. "And who are they?"

"Oh, these are Killua-san, Gon-san, and Maana-san."

"Well, nice to meet you—I'm Wing."

The trio mimicked Zushi's earlier stance, shouting "Osu!" simultaneously.

"I didn't expect to meet other children here. What brings you all to this place?"

"Uh… well, we want to become stronger,” replied Killua, “But we're also broke, so we're making money simultaneously."

"Killua's also a veteran here,” added Gon.

"Well, if you're up here, you must be fairly skilled, but you should pay strict attention to your opponent's body as well as your own," advised the older man before turning towards Zushi. “You especially, Zushi.”

“Osu!”

Following the departure of Zushi’s master, the boys collected their prize money—a mere total of 152 jenny. Though according to Killua, every floor over the fifties was worth more than fifty thousand, going as high as ten million. That meant at just six years old, Killua had singlehandedly made 200 million jenny—the thought of having so much money at such a young age was enough to make Maana’s head spin.

“Hey, lets head to the waiting room. Since we didn’t take any damage from the last fight, we’ll probably be assigned another match today.”

At Killua’s behest, the boys followed him down the hall. As soon as he opened the door, Maana was tempted to plug his nose and turn on his heels. The abrupt bloodlust in the room stirred his stomach; though he felt no danger, it was akin to walking into a junkyard.

Men of all shapes and ages gazed at them, some brandishing weapons as sharp as their eyes, some simply cracking their knuckles with anticipation. Still, it seemed Killua felt no fear; rather, he seemed unapologetic in the way he carried himself across the room, with his hands in his pocket and the corner of his lip cocked up.

“Well, these opponents should be a cinch,” he said, garnering a few bad looks from those who had heard him.

At those words, Zushi visibly shrunk, murmuring, “Killua-san! Please, you’re too loud…!”

Before Killua could retort, the sound of the speakers clicking on stole away their attention.

**“#2054, Killua-sama. And #1963, Zushi-sama. Please head to Arena A, on the 57 th floor.”**

Glancing at Zushi, Maana could not help but feel sorry for the boy. It was clear in the way his body stiffened and his eyes trembled that he was scared—and in all fairness, Maana would have been too, were he in Zushi’s shoes. An opponent like Killua, full of confidence that was backed by legitimate skills, it would send just about anyone running for the hills.

Still, Zushi stood to his feet, bowing respectively towards Killua.

“Osu! I shall give it my best!”

“Well, you can’t win them all. Better luck next time,” hummed the boy as he turned towards Maana and Gon, “I’ll head out. See you guys above!”

As Killua left the room, a nervous Zushi visibly swallowing his fear before following after him, a sheepish smile spread on Gon’s face. He glanced at Maana, murmuring, “He really didn’t need to be so blunt…”

“Mm-hm… but that’s Killua for you,” sighed the redhead, shaking his head. “Honestly! That kind of confidence is good to have around for sticky situations, but it wouldn’t hurt to be humble every now and then.”

“Although, Maana, you’re nothing but humble! I guess you and Killua should really try to learn from each— _owowow!”_

“I don’t wanna hear that from Mister _I-Just-Run-Headfirst-Into-Everything-And-Hope-It-Just-Works-Out!”_

“Th—That’s way too long!”

“Then Mister Stupidhead, is that better?!”

“Now that’s just mean…!”

Releasing Gon from his Ultradeath-Facepinch (a hidden self-defense technique specially developed then and there), Maana blew his cheeks as he huffed with annoyance. Though he knew that Gon was correct to some extent, it was still something he didn’t want to hear from someone as reckless as Gon. If he walked around with the same confidence as Killua, he would have gotten killed a long time ago!

“O—Owie… you didn’t need to get so mad, Maana…” Gon moaned, rubbing the sore spots on his cheeks where the redhead had pinched him.

“What are you talking about? You should have seen that coming a mile away, running that cheeky mouth of yours!”

Though Maana was still pouting as he pushed a finger into Gon’s chest, the greenclad boy, rather than argue, smiled gently.

“… Y’know, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you get mad!”

Raising an eyebrow, Maana’s face scrunched in curious disbelief.

“What do you mean?”

“When we first met, you always seemed to be holding yourself back… honestly, I was a little worried, but I guess it was for nothing. After all, you seem happier now.”

Hearing the words that Gon uttered, Maana’s eyes widened. True, there was a part of himself that he repressed, for fear that the last thing he’d feel upon his many deaths was pain.

But he hadn’t expected Gon of all people to realize that.

Lowering his eyes, Maana gazed upon his empty palms. Looking back on everything, the outcome of it all was nothing short of miraculous. All his anomalies and his flaws were accepted, without judgement nor contempt.

Even his powers felt somewhat normal now.

Carrying that thought in mind, Maana closed his hands and smiled to himself.


End file.
